


Babe Out of Wasteland

by prodigalsanyo



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: A Knotty Tale Unfolds, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Jackie Lives Fuck the Pilot Ep, John Watkins dies, John Watkins is the major character death, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Verse, Polyamory, Stockholm Syndrome, Time Skips, no cops die, thrusty thrusty stabby stabby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalsanyo/pseuds/prodigalsanyo
Summary: [ BASED ON THIS PROMPT ]Alpha John after fawning after Omega Martin for years... blames Jessica's hedonistic, sacrilegious influence for Malcolm's betrayal of his father and decides to take the boy away to raise him "right." A young adult Omega Malcolm, brainwashed by his years in captivity, is arrested alongside John by Alpha Gil, who is horrified to see what's become of him at the junkyard.A/N:  John Watkins dies which is why Major Character Death tag.◇ ■  ◇ ■ ◇ ■  ◇ ■Alpha: Dani, Watkins, Jessica, Gil, JT, AinsleyBeta: Jackie, Tally, EdrisaOmega: Martin, Malcolm
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly, Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell/Edrisa Tanaka, Malcolm Bright/Paul Lazar | John Watkins
Comments: 21
Kudos: 13
Collections: PSon Goblin Swap Summer 2020!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheCosmicMushroom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCosmicMushroom/gifts).



> [ OMEGAVERSE RULES ]
> 
> Alpha females and omega males have both female and male genitalia. Alpha females have secondary dick 'n' ballz. Omega males have secondary vaginas. Omega males carry the baby after mating with Alpha females. 
> 
> Alphas present with knots exclusively in reaction to omegas in heat. Alpha females drop their balls only for omegas in heat. Outside of heat cycles, Alphas males have standard erections with non inflated soft tissue at the base of the cock. Alpha females may have erections but they are not ideal for penetration outside of heat cycles.
> 
> Hormonal IUDs in this fic disrupt omega heat cycles for a maximum of five years. Copper IUDs (non-hormonal) prevent pregnancy but an omega may enjoy their heat cycle which can vary from monthly to once every several weeks. Alphas who exceed 10" avoid IUDs because it can catch your dick wrong.
> 
> Betas are the majority. Cuz the story features cops, the cast list skews Alpha.
> 
> [ BASED ON THIS PROMPT ]  
> Alpha John after fawning after Omega Martin for years.... blames Jessica's hedonistic, sacrilegious influence for Malcolm's betrayal of his father and decides to take the boy away to raise him "right." A young adult Omega Malcolm, brainwashed by his years in captivity, is arrested alongside John by Alpha Gil, who is horrified to see what's become of him at the junkyard.
> 
> [ FULL DISCLOSURE ]  
> Not a whole lot of crime solving gets depicted. 😏😏😏

  
Dani Powell rejects Xavier's offer to give her a ride home after partying down. Last time when she rode in his car, she forgot herself and told him about losing her father when she was sixteen. Xavier is not her friend, but a player wheeling and dealing in big house narcotics. 

“A’ite Dee. If you don’t want me watching out for your cute little ass,” says Xavier. Though he comes off as a horndog, he never puts his hands on her. She loves him, she loves terrible people, and God, she’s high. The thrill of not yet getting caught as a faker is almost as addictive as the coke. Her rose gold wrist watch with a white leather strap displays the late hour.

She’s floating along the sweet breeze, by herself on 175th street, when she’s shoved into a wire fence. The fence wire scratches her face. Gritty hands choke her from behind until she can’t scream through her swollen throat. A white man in a repairman’s uniform kicks away her can of pepper spray and then kicks her on the curb before dragging her near some dumpsters inside a junkyard. Her legs and her midriff are scraped bleeding when he drops her into a hole in the ground.

Her night never ends. Dani’s arms are bound above her head. The assailant’s boots loosened a few of her teeth. The same boots step onto her coral red painted toenails, grinding on her bare toes until Dani no longer dozes. Her mouth and her chin are crusted with blood from her nostrils. Blood streaks the front of her cropped purple jersey. Her denim skirt rides up her hips, exposing the lower mounds of her ass and she wishes her hands were free to fix her skirt. 

“Good evening, sinner. Your day of reckoning has come,” speaks a rough and gravelly voice. She can make out his Cheshire grin, suspended with no humane connections to reality.

“You fucker,” Dani manages. She hurls her insult into the phantom void of his eyes. Then she hawks a bloody loogie onto his dark clothes.

She flinches when he grabs her sleek cornrow braids and shines his flashlight into her pupils. “Sinful abuser.” He spits in her face before leaving her in the long night to purge the evil in her body. She’s cold despite dripping in her own sweat. When her nose runs, she tastes blood. Her body aches in places under her skin that are not injured.

Her loosened teeth aren’t as problematic when she goes for days without food or water or the pleasure of company. Just when she thinks that she will expire like a dead hooker inside a strange man’s closet, a different white guy enters the tiny space. From what she can observe with her dulled senses without any lights, the second guy is shorter in height and he has long dark hair. She smells the water inside the bucket he carries.

“Give me water, I’ll die,” Dani croaks.

“This water is meant to cleanse,” says the guy. He’s soft spoken and solemn. His hands are gentle as he sponges her neck and chin. “Weep if it comforts you, but I cannot slake your thirst. It is not His will for me to quench the desires of your flesh.” He’s so close that she hears him lick his lips. She yearns for the wetness of his mouth. 

He does not sponge a single droplet onto her cracked tongue no matter how loudly Dani wails, too dry to shed teardrops. Ugly cries tear out of her parched throat. 

“I cannot help sinners. Your fate is up to Him,” he says.

“Cop. I’m cop,” grunts Dani. Her voice is wrecked and she’s not sure that he heard her correctly.

He remains quiet when the man who abducted Dani crowds the door.

“Omega, you are not to speak with this Delilah,” says Dani’s kidnapper. 

“Yes Alpha. I have done what you told me,” says the omega accomplice. His alpha strokes his long dark hair, the motion circulating the scent of green apple shampoo.

“Her father is Lucifer. You know by her dress and by her arts that she is an immoral woman. Her words defile everything around her like bitter roots in a green pasture. Word begets sin and her wages are death,” says the alpha, condemning her.

Dani lulls her head, glaring at the alpha from beneath the kinked and matted hair from one of her braids coming apart. Though her hands remain bound, she yanks at her bindings, bringing her fists lower. She salutes the alpha kidnapper with both middle fingers.

“Grab the looking glass, omega. This harlot doesn’t know her place. She is garbage, fit only to throw into the lake of fire. She will see,” says the alpha. He slaps her freshly scrubbed cheek.

When the omega returns with an unframed mirror, his alpha steals Dani’s bloodstained watch and puts it around the omega’s wrist. Arousal emanates from the alpha man as he possessively strokes the omega’s chest. She can smell his want and it twists the shriveled husk of her stomach.

“Thank you, Alpha.”

“You are very welcome, little one,” replies the alpha. He cups the omega’s chin and turns the omega’s face toward Dani. “She dared to look at what’s mine with a covetous heart. How should we recompense this dirty whore for her offense?”

“A haughty look, a proud heart, and the plowing of the wicked are sin,” says the omega in dutiful recitation. He raises the hand which bears the trinket given to him by his Alpha and jabs his fist into her eye without hesitation.

* * *

“If you are not police, I will black your other eye for lying.” The omega returns with a flashlight and a thermos sloshing with water. He is mercifully alone. Despite his threats, the omega cuts her bindings with a switchblade and gives her a wide berth when she snatches the thermos. 

Her stomach protests when she gulps the water greedily. Once Dani glugs her fill, which sadly doesn’t take many swallows, she assures him. “I’m a cop. I promise you, I’m undercover. Get you out of here if you help me. I’m your only shot.”

“You were high when my Alpha caught you,” says the omega, pointing out her addiction.

“The drugs were a mistake. I’ll do rehab. If I live, I’ll quit it. But you have to help me first,” begs Dani. 

“Do you swear in Jesus Christ’s name that you are police?” asks the omega.

She would swear on her firstborn if it meant out.

“God, yes. I am! NYPD!” gasps Dani. She tells him her actual shield number. 

“Then weep no more. Your liberation is nigh,” says the omega. Her nose prickles from the scent which his body gives off. The tang of it sticks in her throat, hanging heavy in the enclosed space of her own personal torture cell.

“How?” Dani asks.

“My heat is coming. My Alpha will not care for you while he has me. I shall sabotage the lock, but it is up to you. Soon, I will be powerless,” he answers.

“I’ll take my chances,” says Dani. “What’s your name, for when I get out?”

“Malcolm. Malcolm Whitly,” he says. “Good luck, officer.”

“Wait!” Dani exclaims. “Come with me! We can both bounce.”

“I cannot. I cannot quit this place unless the police arrest my Alpha. I cannot explain. I must be here. You must arrest Him here. Otherwise, you lose Him to the wind,” says Malcolm. He stands firmly and Dani lacks the strength to move him.

“Malcolm!”

“Yes, officer?”

“Lemme see your face,” says Dani. He gratifies her by pointing the flashlight towards himself, briefly illuminating his pale features partially obscured by his lengthy brown hair and his patchy beard growing into a narrow point inches beneath his chin. Pity for her lies behind his blue eyes.

“Malcolm. I’m Dani. I owe you, okay?” She extends her hand. He reaches for her before he shakes his head, clasping hands behind his back.

“He will know if I touch you,” says Malcolm, remorseful. “He will punish me for the stench of filth which clings to my palm. Then my Alpha will take me where no one can find us. I would remain irrevocably His in worse conditions.”

“Okay. That’s okay then. I’ll be back before you know it,” says Dani.

“Dani?”

“Yes, Malcolm?”

“You are not offensive. How you smell brings me comfort.” Malcolm draws in a deep breath and Dani wants to pull him close and scent him on her skin, weakened as she is. “I must confess that I have not encountered an Alpha woman who is not my blood relation.”

“I’m not much of an Alpha. Get out of here or else I take you with me,” warns Dani. Dehydration, starvation, and the pain of drugs clearing her system dampens her usual aggression. She doesn’t have time to deal with her body’s reaction to Malcolm’s enticing presence.

Malcolm clambers on top of a kitchenette counter and pushes at an overhead hatch. Dani learns that she is imprisoned within a buried camper. He shows her the way to exit, cautioning her to wait for some time to pass, and then he is gone. When she’s ready to take her leap, Dani focuses on Malcolm’s scent and chases it to freedom, clawing to get at the open skies, wide and blue like his beautiful eyes.

* * *

**Four Years Ago**

“On the double, Malcolm! We’re running late for your appointment!” His mother Jessica never yells, but her voice raised ever so slightly, travels up the stairs and jolts Malcolm from his reading. “Leave your books! Don’t you get enough reading done on school nights?”

“Yes, Mother,” says Malcolm. He shuffles reluctantly from his bedroom and drags each footfall. His mother’s nose crinkles when she sees him in sweatpants and T-shirt. Her rouged lips part before she remembers that Malcolm is following patient instructions to dress comfortably for his appointment.

“Have you taken anything?” asks Jessica.

“I took some Tylenol as the doctor suggested,” confirms Malcolm.

“If you need anything stronger, my dear…” She fiddles with his hair.

“Mother, we are running late. Let’s just get this over with,” says Malcolm, ducking her elegantly manicured clutches.

The procedure goes smoothly. Malcolm strips off his pants and settles into the stirrups of the medical table within his gynecologist’s office. Though the gynecologist is a beta woman, Jessica remains present with Malcolm’s clothes neatly rolled onto her lap. The gynecologist inserts a hormonal IUD within his uterus. Before he knows it, the gynecologist removes the speculum and his mother tosses him his pants.

“Good job, Malcolm. No fainting, I love it. You’re good for five years,” says the gynecologist.

“Thank you, Doctor. He’ll be back in five years. Does drinking affect the birth control?” asks Jessica.

“Not at all,” answers the gynecologist. "But drinking can make you lower your standards on a night out. I wouldn't overdo it when you are of age, young man."

“Oh my God, mother. It’s done. You don’t have to worry about me embarrassing you with unplanned pregnancy,” gripes Malcolm.

“You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, darling. The doctor’s office is the safest place to air your concerns,” says Jessica. “Now tell me, Doctor, when my son is ready to pop out grandchildren, how soon would he conceive when the IUD runs out?”

“Really, Mother.”

“The time frames are variable. When you’re ready to have children, once you remove the IUD, your fertility cycles will resume. As you well know, the hormones from your IUD suppress your reproductive processes by mimicking pregnancy,” informs the gynecologist. “After you metabolize the pregnancy hormones, if you don’t re-insert a fresh IUD, I would say that you have between eight to twelve hours.”

“Before what?” asks Malcolm, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Eight to twelve hours for your body to initiate heat. Within twenty four hours, if you’re with an Alpha, they’ll let you know,” says the gynecologist with a bemused expression. “For someone with your BMI, I would say you’d present for mating within eight hours.” The gynecologist hands him a menstrual pad and advises him of possible spotting.

His mother walks him to the car with Adolpho waiting. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel sore,” says Malcolm.

“My big baby,” croons Jessica, laughing when she grabs a hunk of cheek meat and pinches his annoyed face. “Let’s go home and eat a carton of ice cream. It is mommy’s cheat day.”

Before Malcolm gets in his big spoonful, Jessica slides the sundae bowl out of reach and pushes a pill across the table.

“Mother!”

“You need a nap, dear. A blossoming young omega needs beauty rest,” fusses Jessica.

“I’m sixteen, mother. Sixteen and taking college level courses that I can get credit for,” protests Malcolm. “Gil’s teaching me how to drive.”

“In his LeMans?” asks Jessica, brow skeptically quirked.

“In Jackie’s car,” Malcolm clarifies. They both smile because Gil’s ride is his lady and his baby.

“Hmm, bless his heart. Your ice cream is melting.” Whereas his omega father would’ve taken him to the park or to the arcade for running amok, Jessica opts for a less circuitous method to impose restorative sleep. 

“Jesus,” says Malcolm. After a staring contest, he cedes to his Alpha parent. He takes the pill with a spoonful of sugar.

Jessica pours a little liqueur into her sundae bowl. “Ice cream, nap, and Mother will run errands and pick up Ainsley from school. We’ll play games and watch movies all the way to midnight. How does that sound for your weekend at home?”

Malcolm offers a tired smile, eyes blinking heavily despite the chocolate overload. She tucks him into bed. Before she sashays out, Jessica gives him a quick sniff. Her alert Alpha senses gauge his physical health and stress levels.

He wakes up screaming after two hours elapse. Soaked in sweat, Malcolm showers and changes his pad. The used pad is speckled with blood from inserting the IUD. He throws on jeans and a soft shirt. He’s too drowsy to read and paces around the living room. After about ten minutes of focused self-loathing, Malcolm heads downstairs into the basement. His house slippers creak on the steps.

He flicks on the humming fluorescent lights, his sweaty palms gripping the cordless phone. While he waits on the dial tone, Malcolm slides down the wall which blocks off his father’s old workshop and sits cross legged.

“Hello, this is Malcolm. May I speak to my father, Dr. Martin Whitly?” he asks. After a few transfers, the line connects.

“My boy, what are you doing calling me this early on a Friday?” greets Dr. Whitly.

“Staff Meetings all day at school,” says Malcolm. “I wanted to-- um… Happy Birthday, Dad. You’ll get one of Ainsley’s angel drawings in the mail after today. I forgot to ask Ainsley to make your birthday card because of midterms.”

Malcolm shuts his eyes and hugs his knees. He can’t forget the sound of his mother crying on the phone to Gil. “That man is not getting a damned thing for his birthday, besides what my attorney sends!!” After overhearing, Malcolm steals an angel drawing from Ainsley’s doodle book and encloses one of his graded essays. He doesn’t tell Ainsley because Mother would find out.

Dr. Whitly sounds pleased about receiving stolen artwork (unbeknownst to him) and it’s a worthwhile fib for Malcolm. “My dear and thoughtful son. I can hardly wait to receive a birthday surprise from both my children. How did you fare on your midterms?”

He chats with his father in the allotted time for Claremont inmates. Once Malcolm clicks off the phone, his ears detect muffled scraping. Malcolm stealthily gets to his feet. With the sedative in his system, maybe he’s not as graceful as he hopes. Malcolm is frozen like a deer in headlights when a man in dark clothes appears from the shadows.

He doesn’t understand yet why his heart pumps quickly despite the sedative. He reacts to the man's pheromones which scream intrusion, hostility, and danger. His chin draws lower into his chest as he backs into the wall and without taking his eyes off the stranger, sidles toward the steps. He almost throws the phone, but thinks better of it because dialing 911 is smarter. Belatedly, he thinks about how he rambled much ado about nothing and missed his chance to tell his father “I love you.”

“Hi, there. Any chance you got juice or soda?” inquires the man.

“N-no soda,” stutters Malcolm. “Louisa made sweet tea.”

“Is Miss Louisa home with you?” When Malcolm shakes his head emphatically, the man smirks. “Are you alone?”

“Yes,” says Malcolm, nodding. He tilts his gaze and stares at the man’s boots with detached fascination.

“How about you put the phone back in its cradle and pour me a refreshing glass of Miss Louisa’s sweet tea?”

The stranger trails after Malcolm. The phone clatters to the living room floor through Malcolm’s shaking hands. Malcolm’s arms cross over his chest as he closes his eyes, brows creased.

“Man, you’re jumpy. Are you too spoiled to pick up after yourself? Put the phone receiver back, Malcolm. Or do I need to have a sit-down with your Hedonist mother?” In spite of the stranger’s casual attitude, the threat is apparent to Malcolm’s strained nerves.

Malcolm bends down and snatches the phone.

“Lay it down properly!” barks the man. Malcolm wipes his face with the back of his hand and replaces the phone. The phone no longer looks crooked or out of place.

“Good. Now how about that glass of tea?” chirps the intruder. He walks toward the kitchen and Malcolm follows with one glance over his shoulder at the blinking light on the answering machine.

The stranger helps himself to the fridge. He pulls out a crystal pitcher loaded with sliced fruit. He drains tea from the pitcher’s spout into a glass cup. “Walk me around your lovely house. It’s a quarter before three. Your lovely family returns around three thirty in the afternoon.”

Fear surges like cold water through Malcolm’s veins. He does as the man bids, lingering in the guest bedroom, his room, Ainsley’s room, their study room with the internet capable desktop computer, and every bathroom. The man directs Malcolm to step into the linen closet and he hyperventilates in the fragrance of laundered items.

Malcolm only protests when the man encroaches on the double doors leading into his mother’s personal suite. “I don’t know the security code,” says Malcolm. He shuts up when the man taps the white rubber buttons and the locks disengage. His mother’s perfume and her territorial scent markers are potent. The man pinches his nose and turns his head in revulsion.

“Who are you?” asks Malcolm, finally.

The man chortles in amusement. “My feelings are hurt, but no matter. I’m not here for me. You go and lie down in that wicked woman’s bed. Roll around. Put your face on the cool side of the pillow.”

“Will you leave after I follow your directions?” asks Malcolm.

The man crosses an “X” over his heart and taps the corner of his eye.

Malcolm lies down on his mother’s king sized bed. He keeps the house slippers on as he assumes the fetal position around her pillow. His fingers skim the fluttery edges of her silken pillow case. He’s lulled by the smell which he’s always associated with safety and nurturing. When he’s rolled onto his back, Malcolm fits his arms around the person close to him. A man’s laugh abruptly reels him into wakefulness. Then he’s sinking into his mother’s bed with a man on top of him, nosing into the collar of his sleep shirt, and inhaling his neck.

An odd twinge spikes down his arched back, making him shut his legs, squishing the pad wedged in his crotch. The man isn’t beating him up, but Malcolm is beyond horrified. He finally swings his fists, connects with the man’s chest. The man grabs a pillow and shoves it on top of Malcolm’s face. He is smothered in his mother’s perfume and her natural essence. His mouth is open but no air passes through. When he ceases kicking, the man tosses the pillow aside.

“Forget your family. You should just learn to hate them so it won’t hurt as much when I slaughter them!”

“Don’t kill them. Please. I’m sorry I hit you. You scared me. I reacted,” pleads Malcolm in-between coughing fits.

The man’s lips quirk into a colorless line within bristly beard hairs. His beady eyes gleam bright and dark. “Maybe you can save them, after all.”

“How do I save them? What is it?”

“Tell me. Why did you give me the tour of your house, when I’m clearly familiar with the place?” asks the man. He thumbs at Malcolm’s tousled hair and rests his hand on Malcolm’s ashen cheek. His nose bumps the tip of Malcolm’s nose. The bristles of his beard tickle Malcolm’s lips. “If you’re a child of Martin, if you are indeed the child he conceived immaculately, you will answer as such. Then I will know that you are unblemished.”

“Are you like my dad?” asks Malcolm. He bites back the word “sick.”

“Aren’t you?” leers the stranger. “Tick tock, three o’clock.”

Malcolm imagines that he’s on the phone with his father, but he can’t hear the answer. He enters an iron gate and passes through a maze of halls and doors before he reaches the prison cell with Dr. Martin Whitly, the buzzer sounding with the locks. With only a driver’s permit and twenty nine minutes before his family’s imminent massacre, Malcolm is aware that sharing the prison cell with Dr. Martin Whitly is still not deep enough. 

He crosses the thin red line, stalking the shackled omega, shoving him into the wall, pulling down the waistband and cupping tender flesh bedded in soft curls. Losing himself as he claims what’s his. “However did you find me, Alpha?” teases Martin. He shows Martin, fingers opening the omega who is already dripping slick, staining the white prison uniform. He wets his cock, lightly pinching the knot firming up as Martin’s scent coils around him. He brings his soiled fingers to his lips and God, the child inside Martin will smell just like--

“My smell’s everywhere now,” Malcolm answers, shocked out of his mind by his own conclusions. The strange man holds him down in his mother’s bedroom. “When you leave, the police and their dogs won’t know where the scent trail begins. My scent trail. Jesus, you expect me to go with you.”

He remembers his father explaining how he would talk his victims not in circles, but spirals winding down their time on earth. Malcolm wonders about another issue. “But what about your fingerprints? You touched glass surfaces.”

“I had a pretty nasty accident way back when. Acid burned off the whorls and loop de loops. It was a pain to heal but nowadays it’s nice to get my hands into my work,” answers the man. He lightly flicks the tip of Malcolm’s nose. “And if I hear you casually name drop my Lord again, I’ll mix some Drano into your mother’s wine. One bottle for the shelf. It’ll be up to God when she goes down and if she takes anyone else with her.”

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to do that,” Malcolm adds hastily. “Jesus loves wine, right?”

Malcolm thinks he’s killed them all by running his mouth, but the man laughs and hops onto his boots, exiting noiselessly on the plush carpet. When the man is out of sight, Malcolm fleetingly entertains the hope that he sleepwalked into his mother’s bedroom, in a harrowing dream, a creeping side effect of the sedative.

“Malcolm!”

He never gets a say in what’s real and what’s not. Malcolm scampers after the man like the nervous little omega that he is.

“What do I call you? Obviously, my name is Malcolm. How do you know me?” The only thing that can abate his intense dread is information. He’s in the basement again, a familiar scene for his nightmares come to life.

“Oh, I go by a ton of different names. I could be John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. People in my line of work tend to live a many and varied life.”

“You knew my dad. You’re in there. Inside me somehow,” says Malcolm. He craves clarity but he’s not going back to Claremont, not even in the confines of his mind. His blue eyes turn steely as he looks at the stranger from his father’s perspective.

“Alpha.” He’s more tired than he realizes. From the way in which the man draws himself to full height, Malcolm senses that he’s miscalculated, given away something that he, a young omega, should’ve considered more carefully. Now he can’t walk it back.

The man’s fingers curl beneath Malcolm’s smooth chin as he holds Malcolm’s eyes. “Are you willing to kill for me?”

“No.” Malcolm feels smaller than a grain of sand.

“Didn’t think so. You may refer to me as your Alpha when I watch you commit the ultimate act.” They hear footfalls above them. “Nice job stalling. Time to go, little Malcolm.”

“Can I call you John?” For all that Malcolm knows, the man’s last name could be Jingleheimer Schmidt like the silly tune stuck in his head by the mere mention of it.

“You may. John, it is,” answers the man. “Funny how things work out.”

John shuts off the light. The steel grip on Malcolm’s arm ensures that he follows John despite his mother and his sister calling out for him endlessly.

* * *

**Present Day**

His mother and his sister live each day blinded by grief, oblivious to the real and present danger in their house because they assume that the worst has already happened. Ainsley nears the end of her high school years. His mother will batten down the hatches and declare war before she considers moving out of her ancestral home.

Malcolm initiates his plan when his Alpha drags in Dani, seemingly another cokehead party girl to send to Hell. The moment when she whispers that she is a cop, Malcolm believes her. She might be the usual half-naked black lady, but Malcolm listens to her before judging her by the color of her skin, by her skimpy clothes. 

He believes Dani. He will throw in his lot with a bad cop because Lord knows when he’ll have another chance like this to bring NYPD into his Alpha’s territory. Above all, including at the expense of his own freedom, Malcolm intends for the police to lock up his Alpha. He’s murdered for John and he’s prepared to go to prison for John as well.

Malcolm waits for John to visit his grandmother. He steals the anointing oil to lube his hand, stretching himself gingerly until his fingers pinch around medical grade strings. With a tearful thanks to God, Malcolm dislodges the IUD from his uterine lining. He depends on Dani’s ornamental wrist watch to track the hours of his impending heat. Without any cash money to get food, he gives her water before he opens the door to her cage.

The tin shack where John keeps him feels like it’s sweltering. He removes his windbreaker and sweater. He peels off his shirt and checks Dani’s wrist watch again. He drinks from the thermos, the same one which Dani’s lips touched. Malcolm shucks off his pants and squirms on his low-level futon. Judging by the large damp spot on his futon, he doesn’t have as much water as he needs for what’s coming. He definitely forgot about towels. All he wants to think about is Dani. 

John did much to destroy her beauty but Malcolm wants her anyway. Cracked and split from punches, Dani’s lips felt soft between his knuckles. Wiping blood from her jaw was a guilty pleasure because he was allowed to touch her skin and get close enough to detect her natural scent without the unpleasant toxins excreted from her pores. Whether or not she realized that Malcolm pulled his punches, avoiding the vulnerable locations on her skull, Dani leaned into him. If only circumstances were different. He opens his legs and thinks about how she looked at him with the top hatch open, how sunbeams glowed on her cheekbone that wasn’t marred by swollen bruises, how her sunken eyes reminded him of starlight. He wishes that she had dragged him into the hidden camper.

He shudders and jerks into his slick hand when John finds him. It’s pretty serious when John takes off his baseball cap.

“What did you do, Malcolm?”

His throat burns and he is on fire when he lies. “Nothing, Alpha. I prayed this morning. Read a little. I had to stop.”

John appears to accept his words. “We’ve waited for this day. For years, I was sure that there was a reason why God made you a late bloomer. Most omegas have their first heat around the time that I saved you.”

Hell is presenting his body for the man who stole his life. John closes the blinds, calling in darkness. Malcolm has never seen John naked and he supposes now that it is John’s intent even in the throes of heat. Malcolm is on hands and knees, thighs sticky, buttocks tensed, and waiting for a vicious boot to his gut.

He’s rolled onto his back, legs carefully spread until his feet dangle off of the futon. His hips buck when John plants a perfunctory kiss on the lips. “You are my reward for enduring.”

“John, please.” Malcolm’s hands grope around for John’s coveralls. John grabs his wrists and squeezes hard enough to leave prints.

“No, Malcolm. I’m Alpha. I choose when you get filled.” His hot breath against Malcolm’s ear adds to the torment, his emptiness, his despair. 

Malcolm feels his face break and he’s momentarily glad that John can’t watch him. John rustles the bedding when he deliberately settles over Malcolm. He claims Malcolm’s lips then, getting his fingers good and tangled in Malcolm’s hair. Malcolm timidly places his hands on John’s back, thrilled when John’s tongue licks into his mouth. He misses the sound of John’s zipper. John’s knuckles skim his groin repetitively as John strokes himself. Malcolm feels John’s moan, almost vibrating his back teeth.

Malcolm grabs at John’s lower back, clenching his fingers, from the sensation of a firm cock circling and pressing between his legs. He half expects John to swat away his hands. Instead, John rubs the head of his cock where Malcolm’s slick. He grunts and pushes in. Malcolm’s pitched cry and John's guttural outburst fill the hot and close space. John bites down on his neck when he’s too shocked to move. John’s hand covers Malcolm’s mouth as he thrusts. At first, he’s being torn open and then he’s gushing more slick, moaning for John to knot him. Malcolm is almost growling for it. The heat becomes an addictive warmth that makes John smell and feel like the best thing. An engorged knot presses his hole stretched around John’s thickness.

Malcolm jerks his head to shake off John’s hand so he can speak his dire urges. “Oh God. Knot me, Alpha. I want you in. Please please God.”

John grips his throat and hushes him with another quick kiss. “Shush. Think about.” He stills his hips. “Think about our mission. Thoughts.” Grunt. “Pure.”

Malcolm wraps his legs around John’s waist, curving his back and rocking on the firm futon, rutting on instinct alone. He embraces John as closely as possible, not stopping no matter how hard John tugs his hair and bites his neck to control him. Malcolm cries in relief when John sinks fully in, bottoming out and plugging him up. His inner walls tighten as John knots him, trapping Malcolm’s cock, forcing John to spend himself hard and deep. Malcolm becomes unmoored in euphoria, coming all over himself and plastering more hot juices onto John’s clothes. His eyes roll each time John seizes up and spurts hot seed over and over.

“Little omega, what did you do to me.” John moves aside Malcolm’s damp hair and kisses Malcolm’s neck where he’s marked. The unexpected but pleasurable contact makes Malcolm squeeze and John grinds his swollen knot which joins them.

John lifts up Malcolm’s leg and collapses behind him. His arms band around Malcolm. It will take time for them to separate. 

When the NYPD kicks down the door to the tin shack, Malcolm basks in satisfaction, Dani’s watch spun all the way around from sweating and rutting, with John trapped inside of him.

“We appear to be wanted men, Alpha,” says Malcolm.

“Filthy traitor!”

As they are locked together, Malcolm and John rise to standing. John is behind Malcolm, keeping him close to maintain their disturbed balance. As the police lower their guns, John puts a pocket knife to Malcolm’s throat, sharp edge digging into where his carotid artery pulses. Like how John throbs inside of him.

“Take my knife, omega,” commands John. Malcolm does so, unable to resist his Alpha. Without the weapon endangering Malcolm’s life, police get a clear shot and fire multiple times into John. 

Bleeding out, John gives Malcolm his last. “Now bury my knife into your wicked flesh. Die for betraying your father. Die for me.” Blood loss softens John's cock. John leaves Malcolm's body, collapsing onto his knees, slumped onto the wall. John’s spend trickles warm down Malcolm’s thighs. It’s like a caress compared to the blood violently ejecting in scarlet arcs from the knife wound on Malcolm’s left side.

One of the cops staggers to him, using her hand to put pressure on the self-inflicted wound. The number 16 is pinned to her uniform collar. He sees her badge. Her cornrows are gone but her hair looks shiny and clean tucked into a sensible bun. Her lip is scabbed where the split healed. The periorbital zones of her eyes are discolored but no longer swollen. She’s on her butt on the floor, pulling at him to sit up. “Malcolm, what the fuck. Fuck. Why?”

‘You look good in blue,” says Malcolm. “Dani.”

“Shut up. You focus on not dying. I’m going to yell at you when this is over. You don’t even know!!” For all her anger, she’s still cuddling him. Dani calls over to a man in a suit jacket and tie who’s hanging back to avoid the bloody mess. “Lieutenant, sir, how soon can the bus arrive?”

The police lieutenant lowers the mask covering his face, a precaution that some Alphas use when they anticipate an omega’s involvement at a crime scene. “Twenty, maybe fifteen, if we’re lucky.”

He treads carefully around the blood. He grimly regards John’s carcass. “Did you take the shots, Powell? You did a hell of a number. It’s just as well that the medics only have room for one. Poor kid.”

“That was me, sir,” volunteers another patrol officer.

“Excellent hits. Tarmel, right?”

“Yes, sir. Lieutenant Arroyo, sir.”

Lieutenant Arroyo smiles briefly. He doesn’t miss how Tarmel, big tough guy, almost salutes him. That was veterans for you. Then Lieutenant Arroyo gets as close as he dares to a mortally injured omega and the young Alpha woman clutching him like the jaws of life. Despite his matured age, he crouches down easily with agile practice from years of squatting weights.

“I never thought I’d see you alive,” he says to Malcolm.

“Gil?” Malcolm looks different, but the eyes are right. How sweet they are despite their dimmed gaze. His long hair and the patchy beard have auburn hints similar to Jessica Whitly’s.

“If it weren’t for your girlfriend giving her CO your name, we wouldn’t have found you. I dropped everything and inserted myself into the situation,” says Gil. He sheds his long coat and gingerly covers Malcolm below the waist, mindful of the embedded knife. Gil's coat hides the pale and light pink scars randomly grouped on Malcolm's legs, but does not cover the raised marks and indented lines on Malcolm's upper body. In addition to the closed wounds not yet softened by time, a mating bite on Malcolm’s neck dampens his hair with more blood. A resigned expression sinks Gil’s mouth when blood flecks the toes of Gil’s shoes.

“Is it over, Gil? Is my Alpha dead?” asks Malcolm.

“That piece of garbage is not your Alpha. He won’t ever trouble you again.” Wrath momentarily darkens Gil’s face. Then Malcolm extends his hand and Gil takes it and wraps his warm hands around Malcolm’s cold fingers, nails turning blue.

“I am fine. How does my family fare?” begs Malcolm. When she hears him, Dani’s face flushes and tears run from her eyes and her nostrils.

“I haven’t told them that we had a real lead to your whereabouts. Had to be sure. They’ve been through a lot, too,” says Gil.

“Gil, there are bodies. I can--”

“Stay down, Malcolm. Let the police do their job. Ten more minutes, and we’ll get you out of here,” says Gil. 

“You do not comprehend. He made me. I had to. The bodies, Gil!” Malcolm cries plaintively.

Sorrow, mingled with horror, creases the many lines around Gil’s eyes, too fine to count, and numbering more than what Malcolm remembers. Gil’s hand settles on Dani’s shoulder while she cradles Malcolm, the three of them forming an unbroken circle sealed with precious blood. 

“You saved my life once upon a time. Her life, too. Now it’s our turn to save you, Malcolm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OP, I did like half your prompty. It's a great fucking prompt! Instead of John raising up a traumatized boy Malcolm, I focused on Malcolm gettin wit police, relying on Dani's big dick energy. Hence, Malcolm was abducted age 16 and rescued age 20, a nice lawful age for discovering love in all its shapes numb3rs and size kinks. Thanks for reading! And thanks OP (i love you)!! :) :) :)
> 
> [ Author Rants ]
> 
> Oh MAN, so before swapfic, I always wondered what if Dani got snatched up by the Junkyard Killer in the so called "hood" before she blew cover. I planned to end the fic when Gil and Dani salvage Malcolm from the junkyard. But then my muse wagged its forked tongue in my ear.


	2. Chapter 2

The gastroenterologist who evaluates the results of Malcolm Whitly’s emergency surgery performed by another doctor determines that the abdominal injuries to Malcolm’s small intestines will resolve without complication. However, the gastroenterologist warns the Whitly family of nerve damage which significantly decreases Malcolm’s hunger response.

“Your young omega may be on a feeding schedule with portioned meals and supplemented with strategic snacking for the rest of his life,” advises the gastroenterologist. Jessica and Ainsley both pace the small conference room in the hospital ward, giving one another space to avoid clashing as strong-willed Alpha women.

Jessica handles the news as expected, bawling as much as she can. The gastroenterologist scoots back in their wheeled conference chair with both hands raised, a beta deferring to an Alpha. Jessica appears larger than life when her emotions dominate. Her red lips pull back into a feral snarl and she gives the impression of being taller than an Amazonian warrior on the warpath.

“For God’s sake! If I snap and murder a doctor, it wouldn’t be you,” says Jessica, vexation softening the angry tilt of her penciled brows.

“Sorry, Doctor. We’re also adjusting to the news that she will be a grandmother and myself an aunt,” explains Ainsley. Her anger presents in an unreadable and merciless stare, fingers twitching, her legs poised like a wolf feigning boredom, an unsettling contrast to her mother’s expansive motions.

Between Malcolm’s surgery and recovery and the doctors’ assumptions on birth control based on his previous medical history, they miss the window of efficacy for post-exposure contraception. Moreover, when Malcolm is awake, alert, and oriented, he denies non-consensual sex thereby discounting the rape kit which Gil, as the police lieutenant, advises to medical personnel. Vitals check and urine tests reveal Malcolm's delicate condition.

While he remains hospitalized, Malcolm demands to see his Alpha’s corpse, to know that his Alpha truly is dead, before he gives a statement on his ordeals. What he receives, as the dead man’s surviving omega mate, is an autopsy report for a John Doe signed off by Dr. Edrisa Tanaka.

The report is delivered by none other than a familiar face. She’s in a puffy and shiny green bomber jacket and light wash denim gauchos. Her silver hoop earrings oscillate against the soft and thick curls of her half bun hair style. 

“Hello, Miss Officer,” says Malcolm, as primly as you please.

Dani won’t have none of it. She goes in for a big hug, her thick and curly hair pressing Malcolm’s cheek and her elbow crooked along his chest. They share a look which crosses the boundaries of their roughed up and thinned out frames.

“Cut that shit out, Malcolm.”

“Whatever do you mean, officer?”

“The formalities, fool. I’m not on duty for a while. I got yanked out of my assignment like a bad tooth, Malcolm. My CO putting me on leave while they figure out what to do with me. Party’s over,” says Dani. Her devil may care smirk broadens into a chipped smile where John broke her tooth.

At Malcolm’s startled expression, Dani remembers and waves off his guilt. “Why you starin’? I did worse to my teeth when I stuck blow on my gums for numbies. I'll see a dentist. Then after I do all that, they’re trying to get me to check into rehab. And I gotta go, go, go.”

“Rehab?” repeats Malcolm.

“Yeah, it short for the Rehabilitation of Dani Powell,” she says, lifting her chin as a curly strand falls over her bruised eye. “The drugs landed me in more trouble than it was worth. I’m using my time off the job to square up. You’re going to meet the real me.”

Dani rubs under her nose, catches herself, and then stuffs her hands into her jacket pockets.

“I look forward to it.” Though Malcolm’s chin hairs are reduced to patches of stubble and his hair is combed into a side ponytail, he still looks a mess; closer to death with one lover in the grave and extra scars to remember him by. His hand flutters over his abdomen, roving lower than the stitches. “I mean, we look forward to it, Dani.” He looks small and scared.

“You better. We should do a big dinner, all you can eat and all you can drink.” Their futures are uncertain that Dani can’t assure him that she would be around before his baby is due. All she can give him is a fleeting impression of friendship where their hands join. 

Her sleek brown high heeled boots clack after she leaves him with a promise. “You’ll see me later, Malcolm.”

* * *

The cogs of the justice system turn against Malcolm when Major Crimes bring him into the police station. His mother Jessica hires attorney Eve Blanchard who specializes in trafficked omegas forced to undermine the law while in captivity. Due to pending investigations into the identities of sixteen confirmed kills as well as the unverified identity of the Alpha male nicknamed The Junkyard Killer, the prosecutor’s office does not schedule the case for Malcolm’s arraignment until months later. Attorney Blanchard asks the federal judge to dismiss Malcolm’s case because of the delay. When Judge Ramirez reviews the circumstances of the delay, the judge denies the request. 

Malcolm Whitly is formally charged as an accessory to kidnappings/abductions, assault, torture, murder, conspiracy, obstruction to police investigations, and knowingly assaulting a police officer undercover for Vice. Malcolm sits heavily in the defendant’s seat as his omega father did before him. He keeps his fidgety hands beneath the table, trying not to touch his clean shaven face or to play with his shorter hairstyle. His head feels like it will float away like a balloon when he scrapes his chair back and rises without jamming his pregnant belly into the wood table. The water he drinks with his morning prescriptions suddenly wants out in the middle of his plea. 

“No contest, your Honor,” replies Malcolm. As part of his attorney’s plea negotiations with the district attorney, Malcolm does not contest the formal charges against him. 

Once Judge Ramirez acknowledges Malcolm’s plea of no contest, he moves on to order the conditions of release.

“Pending before me are petitions to remand the defendant, one omega Malcolm Whitly, to the care and custody of an alpha. Upon review, I hereby formally designate Alpha Gil Arroyo as the custodian. The omega may not enter public space without the personal supervision of Gil Arroyo or his legal spouse. The designated alpha will be held responsible should the omega fail to make an appearance for their trial by jury.”

The court sets his cash bond at one million dollars, which Jessica Whitly delivers in a Louis Vuitton limited edition tote. Once the conditions of his release are met, Judge Ramirez adjourns the arraignment hearing. Malcolm hobbles towards the unisex bathrooms in the world’s pointiest dress shoes. He and his recently tailored suit make it in time. The trip to the bathroom is the only private space where he can hug his mother Jessica and his sister Ainsley. 

Gil waits for them just outside the lavatory. The Whitly women have no choice but to split up with Gil and Malcolm. Ainsley and Malcolm exchange coats. With a flirty wink, Ainsley flaps Malcolm’s coat over her head when exiting the courthouse with Jessica Whitly guiding her steps. Ainsley draws the cameras while Gil and Malcolm barrel through thinned out foot traffic.

The more experienced reporters waylay Gil before he can get Malcolm to his black Pontiac Lemans. They question Gil as the alpha, not expecting an omega to speak for himself. Gil opens the door for Malcolm, shielding him from view.

“Mr. Arroyo! Are you investigating the Junkyard Killer with the murderer’s accomplice under your roof? Is this not a conflict of interest?!” A mic from Direct NY News hovers just beneath Gil’s goatee. The camera trains on Gil as he smiles, all assurances.

“My detective squad is recused from the investigations. The matter is now in very capable hands. Please direct all inquiries to Chief Ian Turner.” As Gil woos the camera, Malcolm flumps into the passenger seat and pulls down the sun visor. Gil joins him shortly.

“Kid, you do know at this point that it’s impossible for you to shrink into the seat, right?” Gil says when Malcolm buckles up. He reaches over and lightly squeezes the collar of Malcolm’s shirt. As though Gil turns a release valve, Malcolm spreads out more comfortably in the passenger seat. Malcolm’s lower abdomen droops and skims his lap.

“May we leave, Gil? I wish to be home,” says Malcolm. He flushes when he surprises Gil. The older man puffs out a breath and unconsciously scoots closer to the passenger seat. Malcolm ducks his face when disappointment and doubt crosses Gil’s face.

“I can’t take you there. It’s kinda pushing the conditions of your release,” says Gil. “I’d be willing to do a drive by if you really need to see your old house.”

“No, Gil. That place isn’t home. Take me where I have been staying. With you. And Jackie,” says Malcolm. He can’t make himself look up where he can feel how intensely Gil’s watching him, reading him. Gil’s hand cups his cheek and the warm touch encourages Malcolm to behold the man who cares about him all the way to the moon and back.

“Let’s go home, Malcolm,” says Gil. He smells good and it kicks Malcolm’s heart into a ridiculous gallop. Gil usually makes him feel safe and Malcolm knows that he is not in any danger, and yet, he’s scared of what might happen next. “And this time you’re going to clear your plate when we get back.”

A slightly nauseated look flits on Malcolm’s face. 

“Is that a comment on Jackie’s cooking?” quips Gil as he flashes his lights and turns out of the parking lot. 

“All the food is going to the bump, Gil. This child will come out with a pork chop in one hand and a chicken drumstick in the other,” complains Malcolm.

“Well, lucky for the baby. After dessert, it’ll be swimming in flan,” says Gil, laughing and ruffling Malcolm’s short hair.

Malcolm sneaks a glance at Gil changing out his wingtips for house slippers. They catch each other’s eye when it hits them, the aromatic fragrance of Jackie warming up chicken adobo. Despite his whining, Malcolm makes a beeline for the dinner table, pausing only to drape his suit jacket on his chair.

Jackie swoops in and presents her cheek to Malcolm whose face is on fire as he gives her a quick peck. She notices and pinches his face. “Wash up before we grub down, baby. I don’t want no sweaty lawyer’s moose juice at the table.” When she smooches his flushed cheek, to tease him a little, Jackie pauses and then her eyes search for her husband. “Actually, you don’t smell half bad.”

“My lawyer is not inclined to wear strong perfume, nothing that I noticed,” says Malcolm.

“Hit the showers, kid,” says Gil. He dodges Jackie’s scrutiny and opens a pot before his oh so loving wife smacks the lid with her wooden spoon.

Malcolm is reluctant to shower despite the sweat gathered on his lower back from his layered clothes and anxiety inside the courtroom. He strips off his formal wear and hangs it up to air it out for dry cleaning later. Then he wraps himself in a towel, trudging into the Arroyo’s bathroom. He pulls the longer layers of his hair over his face and breathes in the smell of Gil’s car. He hears Jackie laughing through the bathroom door. His desire to join Gil and Jackie for another family dinner gets him under the shower head despite his sadness over washing away Gil’s scent. Malcolm throws on a T-shirt and loose gym shorts which feel comfortable but cool.

Jackie serves Malcolm a fully loaded plate. Malcolm’s typical strategy (besides pants with stretchy waistbands) in face of Jackie’s hearty dinners is to start with the braised chicken, pace himself with the vegetables and to save the seasoned rice or potatoes for last. While she sighs over his leftovers, it’s not as bad when Malcolm scrapes rice from his plate into the trash can.

“I really cannot,” Malcolm objects. The plate of flan is small, but there is no room in his stomach thanks to the baby.

“Babe, you didn’t tell him about dessert?” asks Jackie.

“I warned him,” jokes Gil. He laughs when Jackie scoots over on her chair and raises a spoon to Malcolm’s lips. “For God’s sake, woman. He’s not a kid anymore.”

“They need the protein,” says Jackie. “Here, you get through to him, papi.”

The warmth of a cozy meal ratchets up when Gil moves his chair closer and takes up Malcolm’s spoon. Gil takes a big bite from Malcolm’s plate and a note of pleasure sounds from his throat. Malcolm grips the edge of the table in response, hemmed in between the two of them. Jackie’s fingers press his trembling left hand. Gil’s arm dangles from the back of Malcolm’s chair, the seam of his trousers flush against Malcolm’s bare leg. “It’s good, Malcolm. Eat,” coaxes Gil.

It’s sweet and good when he swallows at the older man’s behest. Malcolm is shocked when his right hand clutches Gil’s thigh under the table. “Gil, I--” Gil stops him from moving his hand. 

Jackie kisses Malcolm with a firm start which drags into slow tasting. Her hand roves across Malcolm’s groin, arm against him as she rubs her husband through his trousers. Malcolm glimpses Jackie’s palms cupped around a growing bulge. Then Gil gets his fingers into Malcolm’s hair and pulls. Gil’s cheek and his nose and his lips coast along Malcolm’s face and neck and throat. The intimate contact will leave Gil’s smell on Malcolm’s skin. Gil laughs and Malcolm can feel the warmth of it on his neck.

“Jackie and I talked. We’ll catch you up,” says Gil.

“Let’s get comfortable on the couch, gentlemen,” suggests Jackie. She turns off the TV and switches to jazz on low volume. Gil extends his hand toward Malcolm who takes a minute to get to his feet. Once Malcolm is up, Gil lets go and gestures for him to follow Jackie.

All of Jackie’s candles on the coffee table are lit. Jackie winks at Malcolm before she purses her lips and blows out the matchstick. The smoke frames the sinful shape of her mouth. Malcolm laughs in surprised delight and it offsets his nerves. Then Malcolm melts like hot wax when Gil shuffles over with a plush footstool for Malcolm to prop up his legs. Jackie swats at Gil when his hand curls under Malcolm’s knee.

“Babe, we have to talk first!” reminds Jackie. She sounds business-like but then she cuddles up to Malcolm while Gil paces around their couch.

“I do not believe we have much talking to do,” says Malcolm. “I am court ordered to reside in your household, and I am glad for it. As are you both?” His eyes glimmer brightly, shining with hope.

“We’d love it if you stayed forever,” says Jackie. “You come home smelling like my husband, what’s a girl to do?”

Gil’s hands settle onto his shoulders, kneading and circling until Malcolm leans his head into the cushion. Gil kisses the hollow of his throat and up his neck. “Listen, kid, we know how this will play out. I should be your Alpha. If you have someone else, you stop us right now.” Gil’s nose and brow press into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Malcolm breathes him in and strokes the soft hair at the back of Gil’s head. Gil shudders at his touch.

“And you are still welcome here as family if your only other option is to stay with your mother Jessica,” says Jackie. “Neither of us wants to pressure you.”

“No. I will not live in that house where it all started,” says Malcolm. He feels a fluttering in his body from the life inside of him. “I accept your claim, Alpha Gil. I take my place in your house, Beta Jackie.”

No sooner does Malcolm reciprocate than is he pulled into another kiss. He feels both Jackie and Gil touching the hem of his shirt. When Malcolm tugs off his shirt, Gil takes it from him and buries his face in the cotton.

“Oh my sweet Lord. Gil, have you seen these?” gasps Jackie. She hovers, not quite touching but unwilling to let go of Malcolm. Malcolm guides her hand to a crooked gash running parallel to his collarbone.

“I earned this when I would not help him _baptize_ a homeless man,” says Malcolm. “I was denied water when I repented my disobedience.” He leans forward and turns his back to Jackie. “Each lash I bear is for a soul whom I refused to condemn to hell.”

“There’s so many of them,” says Jackie, observing the various indelible marks crossing multiple times.

Malcolm disagrees with a shake of his head. “There should be more scars, but I gave in to the teachings eventually. Every one of them who I would not kill died anyway, not all of them quick nor particularly merciful.”

“I’ll never forget this one. Told you about this, babe.” Gil’s arms encircle Malcolm’s waist. Malcolm leans into Gil and relaxes as Gil points out the smooth red line where John’s blade nearly drained out Malcolm’s life. The scar curves from John’s baby.

“And these?” asks Jackie, her painted nails grazing the thick white lines permanently etched on Malcolm’s thighs.

“He waited a long time to breed me. I deserved each welt, for not confessing to the sinful use of omega birth control,” says Malcolm, blue eyes sparking with mischief. He lifts his face when Gil chuckles. Gil’s hand cups his chin and he kisses Malcolm again and again. Malcolm spreads his legs on instinct when Gil sucks at the mating bite left by Malcolm’s captor.

Jackie gropes at the waistband of his shorts and Malcolm helps her, raising his canted hips. In seconds, Malcolm is naked and trusting. He smells like Gil and Jackie cups her fingers around Malcolm’s cock. He’s soft and clean between her lips and she keeps going until the back of her throat is thick with his heat and his taste. Their bond is complete when she offers her dripping mouth to her Alpha, their Alpha.

* * *

Malcolm stares straight ahead throughout the proceedings, his gaze almost as striking as his stomach distended like the conical nose of an airplane. He sticks with long tunics and a blazer jacket for public appearances. As a result of his hearing trials, the jury does not come to a unanimous verdict about whether or not to condemn a pregnant omega coerced to murder by their Alpha. Rather than go through another trial as a result of a hung jury, the attorneys negotiate a plea bargain.

On attorney Blanchard’s advice, Malcolm takes the plea bargain with the district attorney and waives his right to trial by jury. In exchange for everything he knows about Junkyard Killer John Doe, Malcolm faces a significantly reduced sentence. 

In the final public hearing, Malcolm verbalizes his agreement to accept the plea bargain. Judge Ramirez sentences Malcolm to one year of mandated treatment at Gardner Psychiatric Hospital and three years of house arrest. Attorney Blanchard saves Malcolm from life imprisonment without parole. Instead, Malcolm looks forward to doing life with Gil and Jackie.

As part of his plea bargain, Malcolm agrees to revise his witness statement with homicide detective Owen Shannon. 

While he’s sorting out the diaper changing station in the Arroyo’s spare bedroom, Malcolm overhears Gil on the phone, hushed and mad enough to spit. “He’s about to have our baby! Yes, his baby. You know what I mean, Detective. I will bring him in, but I expect to get him back in one piece.”

Despite Gil’s efforts, Shannon pressures Malcolm to come downtown and to confirm what Shannon has suspected for years.

“Who is your Alpha?” asks Detective Shannon. His hair is more salt than ginger.

“I do not know his last name,” admits Malcolm. “John was careful not to give away too much.”

“Then what can you offer me, Whitly?” demands Shannon.

“John knew my father. They hunted together. Everything I was made to do, he learned from his friend Dr. Whitly,” says Malcolm, sharing a detail unknown to police.

“What would Dr. Whitly say if I paid him a visit and asked after his friend?” sneers Shannon.

“You may speak with Dr. Whitly. He would love visitors. However, Mr. Shannon, I do not recommend it.”

“How much harm can he do now, chained up in cuffs?”

“The answer is no,” says Malcolm. His hands bunch into fists and his face turns red. 

“The hell are you on?” asks Shannon.

“When Dr. Whitly tells you that he wants to see me as a bargaining chip for John's true identity, my answer is no. I am not ever seeing him.” Malcolm sniffles and rests his head on the tabletop. “Please go and call in the Lieutenant.”

“Lucky Boy can wait at his neat little desk. I’m not done with you, Whitly," says Shannon.

“This is not up to you,” replies Malcolm mildly.

“Now why would you say that?” retorts Shannon.

“My water broke. Watch where you step, Mr. Shannon. Please, if you will, alert the Lieutenant.” Malcolm smiles beatifically. “For he is my Alpha now.”

Shannon knocks over his chair from jumping out of the splash zone. The time comes for Malcolm to birth his firstborn. 

Despite his enmity towards Gil and team, Shannon finally solves the case through dogged efforts of running the names of Dr. Martin's known associates sorted by previous locations of employ whose first and middle names are John. Additionally, a missing person's report filed by an elderly Mrs. Watkins leads to the procurement of aged photographs. Malcolm later on identifies the pictured young man as the paternal father of his natural born baby. Shannon puts down the case of Johnnie Watkins, the Junkyard Killer. 

And Malcolm? He has Sara.

* * *

**A Few Years Later**

He is on vacation, a celebration from finishing business management classes at a college personally endorsed (and financed) by his mother Jessica while also sneaking in psychology and theology minors. If it were up to Malcolm, he would read every day until the sun burned itself out. If it were up to Malcolm, he would sit on the terrace, nibble on blocks of cheese or snap up licorice as much as the day is long. 

But, his mother and his sister are along for the trip. Jessica and Ainsley take hold of his deceptively elusive "blink and ya miss her" little girl, Sara, and they take her to ogle at Spanish ponies on a ranch. Wherever Sara ends up, Malcolm needs to anticipate and “imaginate” the crooked paths upon which Sara toddles toward excitement. Malcolm stands on the fence posts, his heart faint with dread as Jessica and Ainsley walk the pony inside the corral with Sara yelling in her little leather boots. He sticks to taking videos with his trembling hands. Later he’ll watch footage of her patting the pony’s neck while Jessica coddles her.

They watch the sunset at 00:00 hours. They are reclining on a rooftop terrace of a rental vacation house shaded by vines and dangling wisteria. Each mild breeze rustles the various shrubs and the leafy flowering plants. 

Sara attempts to stay up with them but she sneaks a sip of her grandmother’s glass of vintage and then her hazel eyes, grey ringed by blue, follow the twilight into tipsy slumber. Freedom is brighter than the midnight sun and sweeter than the wine which Malcolm drinks with his mother and sister, giggling over Sara sweating on the couch like steamed chicken and sleeping on her stomach with her dark red and curly hair bunched into pigtails.

“She’s never going to know what to do with that hair,” says Jessica, tsking. 

“Raggedy Ann, Wendy Thomas, the Scottish girl with the bow and arrow from that movie,” says Ainsley.

“Besides for Halloween,” clarifies Jessica. “The curls are from You-Know-Who. But that color is striking! Wherever did she get it?”

“Her father’s side, most likely,” answers Malcolm. “Without meeting his parents or his grandmother, I cannot know for certain.”

“Sweetheart, how thoughtless of me. In all other ways, she takes strongly after you. When she stomps her little feet…”

“I think Louisa can be forgiven if she opts for early retirement,” agrees Malcolm.

They visit a bazaar for trinkets and momentos. Sara picks up wooden toys and silken doll clothes for her teddy bear. Malcolm purchases solid perfumes and fragrance oils. He can’t get his nose out of a perfume scented with cumin, amber and cedar. Jessica considers a necklace strung with hundreds of amethyst nuggets and a bolt of green silk to bring to her seamstress for a gown. Ainsley buys packaged candies and sweets for friends and a few pattern dresses.

After a morning of haggling, Jessica and Sara go to the rental house and cool off at the pool. Malcolm and Ainsley opt for sightseeing.

“Is she napping?” asks Ainsley when she sees Malcolm smiling at his phone. They both set their phones to vibrate only. Ainsley puts her hand over her heart and giggles with Malcolm over pictures of Sara lounging in an inflatable flamingo floatie with her sippy cup. Her new wooden toys float in the water.

Malcolm and Ainsley enjoy cool drinks and hot grilled meat wrapped in lettuce. The well spiced meat soaks up their cocktails. They wet their fingers with rosewater before they dig in al fresco, enjoying their lunch as well as checking out the smartly dressed locals conversing in their local language over tiny cups of coffee and honeyed pastries. By the time they’re given platters of fresh fruit, Malcolm can only handle tiny strawberries, the sweetest he’s ever eaten.

After the crowds at the art museum and a tour of a preserved stone fortress, Malcolm and Ainsley are happy to sit down in the pews of a cathedral with New Testament murals painted on plaster. The colors are vibrant despite the chipped plaster. Contentment settles on Malcolm’s face as he gazes at the ceiling resplendent with golden seraphim.

“Thither goes Michael with the sword. Gabriel bears the lantern to light the sainted path. Raphael holds the basket with the fish,” Malcolm points out to his sister. The weight of her eyes on his wonder struck face makes him stare back.

“How can you handle being in here after… well, you know?” inquires Ainsley. “You were trapped with a religious nut for years.”

“It is why I elected to study Judeo-Christian theology with an elective in non-Eurocentric history,” answers Malcolm. “John allowed me to read Mosaic texts, proverbs, some of Isaiah, and the doomsday Revelations.” He raises his arms and frames the angels within his fingers. “I was never allowed to read the Bible or interpret it my way. I vowed during the first year of captivity that if I survived, I would find out what it was that he kept from me. That I would learn it better than him. I would live it better.”

Malcolm props his elbows on the pew in front of them, his shoulders buckling from his past. “I do not know if I shall ever supersede what was done to me and what I needed to do.”

“Quit it with the guilt, bro. You did your time with him and then you were stuck with house arrest,” argues Ainsley.

“Foisting myself on the Arroyos was not exactly hardship. That is omega leniency for you,” says Malcolm.

“You still had to wait before you were allowed to cross the street by yourself,” says Ainsley. She hugs around Malcolm’s shoulder.

“You did not have to take your gap year for me,” says Malcolm, reminding her of the year when she took a break from college and fell out of step with her classmates.

“I did it for all of us,” says Ainsley. “Besides, I kept hopping the train home almost every weekend. It worked out. I graduated with a job, after all. Not bad for a Communications major. At least I don’t sound like I swallowed a textbook.”

“Ah, yes. Jackie has made little headway in terms of my taking up informal speech,” says Malcolm, embarrassed.

“No one’s gonna hit you with a ruler for bad grammar,” says Ainsley.

“I will have you know that under certain circumstances, I indulge in profanities,” says Malcolm.

“Say ‘shit.’ It’s your goddamn Constitutional right,” dares Ainsley.

“You are insane. Not in a church,” laughs Malcolm. She ribs at him until their giggling and teasing disturbs the calm sanctity of the cathedral. They return to the rental house. Ainsley joins Jessica in the pool. Malcolm keeps his shirt on with his swim trunks alongside Sara splashing water on him.

“Up, up, Daddy!” she squeals. She squishes his face before Malcolm complies. He tickles her ankles underwater and makes up nonsense about the Loch Ness monster. Sara does not approve. She grumbles, “Daddy, you’re lying. Nessie in Scotland.”

He forgets that Sara knows about Scottish folklore after falling in love with the movie Brave and the red headed girl archer.

“Smile, bro. You got your butt handed to you by a baby,” says Ainsley, her phone out and camera rolling.

“I’m a big girl, Aunt Ainswee,” says Sara. She sits on Malcolm’s shoulder and hugs the top of his soaked head, sticking out her speckled chubby leg and wriggling her toes.

“I’ll edit it in,” says Ainsley.

* * *

The best part of their vacation is coming back to dinner with Gil and Jackie. With a wriggly armful of Sara in tow, the Uber driver helps Malcolm out with the baggage. Malcolm uses his house key while he keeps a firm grip on Sara’s overall straps.

“Oh Lord, look at those freckles!” squeals Jackie in the living room. 

“Mama, mama!” Sara drops from Malcolm’s arms and lands on her hands and feet before pattering over to Jackie. Her sneakers light up with each step. Jackie’s movements are halted when she hoists Sara onto her hip.

“I can take her,” says Malcolm when Jackie draws him in for a hug as well. Concern bleeds into his tone. 

“It’s going to take more than one brat to put me down,” she jokes. 

Sara demands to be let loose before she breaks free. They hear Sara yell out “Papa Bear!” followed by exaggerated standing bear noises from the kitchen. Gil can be heard snarling theatrically over the range hood filtering out smoke. Sara is even louder.

“Do you believe we are ready for another baby?” retorts Malcolm. He kisses behind her ear. “I will need your help in that endeavor.”

Jackie’s fingers clench his shirt and she lightly rubs at his happy trail, pulling the short hairs in a way that makes his pants unbearably snug. “We’ll have to run that by papa. If he say no, I can cuff him ‘til we change his mind.”

Malcolm roves up and down the curve of her spine as he firmly pulls her in for a deep kiss. He wants her touch everywhere, craves the warmth of her skin to linger on him with the sweetness of honey. Malcolm is still not satisfied even when Jackie’s ears and the tip of her nose flush red along with her parted and swollen lips. The tight press of her arms around his middle deepens her cleavage. Her neckline puffs out and he can see the incision from her surgery.

While her surgery was eighteen months ago, the post-op treatments lowered her immunity. Nothing less than her health and safety would’ve otherwise prevented Malcolm from taking Jackie and Gil with him on a family trip. They are lucky to have her. Between Gil’s keen sense of smell detecting a sour note to Jackie’s body and Malcolm at home to badger Jackie into seeing her doctor, Jackie gets a head start for the fight of her life.

Malcolm licks his lips and bends his head to nuzzle into her breasts. He fantasizes about thrusting the shaft of his cock along the surgical incision between the valleys of her breasts, peaking when the head of his cock dips into Jackie's sumptuous lips.

“Papa!!” yells Sara. When they look over, they see Gil covering Sara’s eyes. Gil’s hand lovingly taps Jackie’s ass below Sara’s eye level. Jackie sticks her tongue out before she holds her arms forward for Sara.

“Let’s go and see what Papa cooked for tonight’s special dinner,” says Jackie.

“Special dinner? Is it for me and Daddy?” babbles Sara, skipping ahead.

“Wash your hands before you find out, Sawa,” says Jackie, playfully.

“Welcome back, college boy,” murmurs Gil. Gil fits his mouth to Malcolm’s shoulder and turns his head as he breathes in Malcolm’s smell and the various aromas on Malcolm’s clothes acquired from travel. The anticipation of Gil’s teeth, his tongue, and his goatee against Malcolm’s skin makes Malcolm stand on tiptoe.

“What are you cooking tonight, Gil?” says Malcolm.

“Nothing as hot as you and Jackie. What were you up to?” asks Gil. His fingers lace together at the small of Malcolm’s back, holding Malcolm possessively. “Papa wants in.”

“How very fortunate for me.” Malcolm bites his lip to stop himself from smiling. Despite his teasing, he wants to be taken seriously when he presses his cheek into Gil’s and whispers. “I want another baby. Do you think you can get on top of that, Papa?”

Gil’s face momentarily lifts with unadulterated happiness before worry takes over. In that moment, Malcolm understands how Jackie feels when Gil holds back.

“Are you sure that you want to go through that?” asks Gil. “We love Sara, but I was there when it happened. I never want to bring you back to that terrible night. Can you handle being knotted?” He raises Malcolm’s face, a hard stare boring into Malcolm’s eyes.

“Yes, Alpha.” Malcolm cups Gil’s hands which are holding his face, leaning into Gil with everything he has. “I love you.”

“Jesus wept, Malcolm. I love you, too.” Their foreheads touch, brows creasing in tandem as they kiss and twine themselves together. When Gil catches his breath, he laughs at Malcolm’s unabashedly red face. “I’m lucky you’re asking me, not telling me.”

“Are you saying yes?”

“Yes. It’s a yes to us. Yes to our family,” answers Gil. He thumbs at the teardrop that runs between Malcolm’s nose and his cheek.

“Very good, Alpha. I will inform Jackie that handcuffs are no longer necessary.”

Gil looks extremely intrigued. “That was your plan B?”

“Oh, Daddyyyyy! Papa!” Shortly followed by persistent beating of fists on the table. “Dinner! Dinner! Dinner!” With Jackie’s unhelpful assistance.

“And there goes the red-headed stepchild,” says Gil.

“Yes, and you agreed to make her an accomplice,” says Malcolm, laughing. He’s delirious with happiness and accepts the tough love when Gil and Jackie get on his case about eating his first meal of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have the patience to write out dialogue/action for why Malcolm was entrusted with Gil for house arrest. I imagine in an ABO society, omegas have less agency as individuals because they act under their Alpha's influence. The expectations of omega breeders would shape legislation, especially in an old American Colonial state such as NY. 
> 
> Gil and Jessica filed paperwork to keep Malcolm out of lock up. Gil is deemed best candidate because he has the potential to guide Malcolm into an acceptable role as breeder. Jessica could have contested Gil as a legal alternative but once Jessica heard that Malcolm was pregnant from traumatic mating, her role as Alpha protector was over. In Omega Verse 1998, Jessica would've been found culpable when her omega broke the law but for Martin's leverage with Nicholas Endicott and his attorney Everett Sterling.
> 
> My first outline included Malcolm not getting pregnant with John's baby. He lost enough blood volume that it aborted his heat cycle and could've prevented implantation or caused an early miscarriage. However, John did not keep him chained once Malcolm killed. Malcolm should serve time in federal prison. Now, if he were heavily pregnant during criminal justice proceedings in the Omega Verse, the house arrest is more believable.
> 
> As for Eve Blanchard. Once she learned that her client Malcolm was kidnapped from inside his own house by his father's serial killer accomplice, Ms. Blanchard ceased to manipulate the surviving Whitly family. She is likely buried in her work and to this day remains haunted by her missing sister. Maybe one day she'll write to Martin.


	3. Chapter 3

Watching Gil play with their child and do the voices for Sara's teddy bear makes Malcolm unbearably impatient. Malcolm trashes his IUD in the morning when Jackie texts him with good news from her specialist doctor. He wants another baby and knowing that he is not alone in his desire emboldens him. 

He selects a very dear bottle of red wine to announce his intentions with Gil and Jackie. He also changes into clair de lune blue panties, garters, and silk stockings to protect his knees from bed burn. Malcolm considers a cream colored corset patterned with golden roses as well, but decides not to cover his scars. For jewelry, he wears the gold ring on his finger which indicates that he is taken. When he puts on his casual wear for the day, the tight satin between his legs makes him hyper conscious of how his parts touch when he moves. For once, he’s excited for dinner. He wants to surprise his lovers, his partners, and if he times it correctly, lure them into bed with the unrestrained draw of his pheromones.

The first person who he tells is Ainsley. Malcolm drops off Sara to stay with Ainsley for a couple nights. The planned visit doesn’t arouse any suspicions for Gil or Jackie. Anxiety skitters through Malcolm knowing that Sara will end up at her grandmother’s house, but with John buried at San Matteo’s and the junkyard paved over, Malcolm permits himself to believe that they are safe from his father’s secrets.

When Jackie returns home first from her job at the high school, she immediately showers like normal but then she curls her shoulder length hair into lustrous waves. A pair of her date heels and her favorite necklace sprawl on top of their bed when Jackie asks Malcolm to zip her into a little black number. She’s wearing her special occasion underwear, top matching bottom with scalloped edges.

“Are you going out?” asks Malcolm. He’s sweating because not only does Jackie look amazingly sexy, but he doesn’t want to fall into his heat without her.

“We both are!” says Jackie. She smacks his jeans. “Put on your fancy dinner clothes, rich kid. The Tarmels invited Gil to dinner. Their baby is almost nine months and they’re dying for adult conversation. Kinda spur of the moment.”

Jackie pauses in brushing on her mascara and turns to Malcolm. “Do you mind? We thought it would be fine with Sawa off to Auntie Ainswee.”

“Will it be a late night?” asks Malcolm.

Jackie shakes her head. “Nine month old infant. I don’t think so. Now get dressed. We might not have another night out like this when Gil puts a baby in you.”

“Where is Gil?”

“Oh, he’s going to tidy his desk and then he’ll join us at their house. We’ll take a cab,” says Jackie. She pecks a quick reassuring kiss onto Malcolm’s lips. “They’re really nice and down-to-earth people. JT is an alpha but if you’re not comfortable with that, his wife Tally can bring him to heel. She’s a beta but don’t let that fool you.”

“Very well, Jackie. I can handle a few hours of fun. If I must,” says Malcolm, schooling his voice into a light hearted tone.

Malcolm’s hopes are dashed. He longs to have them to himself for ten minutes, but Gil isn’t going to come home. Malcolm will have to settle for being close to them while they enjoy themselves. He can wait a few hours. From how quickly his emotions spike, the idea of being alone in the house almost brings him to tears.

When Malcolm changes into a button down, he puts on the cream corset with the golden roses. The flat clasps insure that it’s not obvious through his shirt. Otherwise, he will slump in Depression Corner all evening.

Jackie thumbs his cheek before they get out of the cab at the Tarmel’s address. “They’re gonna love you.” She sniffs at him while they’re on the sidewalk peering at the house numbers. “What fragrance are you wearing? You smell really…” Jackie’s voice goes husky and her tongue flicks between her lips. “Oh Lord, I got lipstick on your neck.”

Malcolm pulls the pocket square from the breast pocket of his charcoal gray suit jacket. He cranes his head slowly, eyes fixed almost hypnotically on Jackie’s half-lidded gaze. Offering her his neck while he brushes the silk over his skin where she marked him. He impulsively kisses the bit of silk before pocketing it again.

“We should’ve stayed home. What the hell,” says Jackie. She’s half-joking, but when she grabs his arm to fold around her elbow, Malcolm can feel her nails through his suit. The visual of her tearing the fabric excites him. He composes himself with more deliberation, for they have been spotted.

“Hello!! Come on in!” Tally opens the exterior door with the decorative iron bars and waves at them with the painted red door behind her. The porch light flickers on, illuminating Tally’s stretchy tunic dress with red and black print. Malcolm hands off his bottle of “special news” wine in a narrow gift bag. “Thank you so much, Malcolm! Oh snap, you chilled it. Yes!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Tally. Are you still nursing? I did not consider your circumstances,” says Malcolm.

“Not after six months!! Fuck that,” answers Tally. “I am having a whole ass glass.”

“Ooh, gimme one, too,” adds Jackie.

“Are we not going to wait on our Alphas’ arrival?” asks Malcolm.

The cop wives glance at once another and break out into hoots of laughter.

“I’m sorry, don’t be offended. You’re new, Malcolm. You’re stunning, but you are new to marrying blue,” says Tally. She invites them to sit on the three-person couch. She pours a third wineglass for Malcolm. “Our Alphas will want nom noms first and then their bottle. Just like a baby...” Tally bends over to coo over the infant dozing in the rocking sleeper.

Tally snaps a photo of Jackie and Malcolm huddling together beside the sleeping infant. When Tally lifts her baby out of the sleeper, Malcolm gets a picture of Tally, baby, and Jackie. Malcolm and Jackie make themselves comfortable on the couch while Tally puts the baby down for sleep in the upstairs crib. They see her on the tablet screen linked to the nursery camera.

“Just how badly are your ovaries exploding?” teases Jackie. “Remember when every time Sara opened her eyes, it was heads or tails if she would settle into brown eyes or blue ones like yours?”

He pictures a wrinkly brown baby who looks like a tired old man. Sara was born bald with fat cheeks, but Malcolm knows that Gil’s child, partly Filipino, would have a clump of dark hair on its head. He imagines their baby diverting the nutrients from his prenatal vitamins into priority number one: beautiful hair. 

Malcolm smiles before he scarfs down his third cookie from the snack tray. He craves something to fill his mouth.

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” says Tally. She insists that Malcolm sits in the middle between herself and Jackie. “I couldn’t help but hear about what you went through because of the news cycle. You’re amazing. Jackie and Gil talk about you when we get together.”

“I apologize. I did not realize that my partners’ friends were interested in my whereabouts. Between my house arrest, treatment therapies, school arrangements, child care… I was not ready to socialize outside of family,” says Malcolm.

“Oh, honey. That's not what I mean. When I heard that you would be free for tonight, I was excited. Maybe when my son can fight back some, we can have play dates with your Sara!” gushes Tally.

“Or we can have another one closer to your son’s age,” says Jackie. Her fingers on his knee makes him antsy. He licks his teeth and bites his tongue. If not for Jackie’s close proximity, Malcolm would put his face to her neck.

He excuses himself to stand up and remove his suit jacket. After a beat, he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls up his sleeves as well. Malcolm is grateful that he left the matching waistcoat on its velvet hanger. “I beg your pardon. The wine has made me warm.” Tally waves aside his apologies and takes his suit jacket to drape over a vacant armchair. She comments on the high quality material.

Jackie places her hand on Malcolm’s hip when Tally brings the collar of his suit jacket to her nose. “Are you wearing perfume? It smells really good,” comments Tally.

“I do not smell anything but your entrée in the oven which promises to be quite good,” says Malcolm, deflecting attention from what Tally perceptively detects about his impending hormonal crisis. The cookies didn’t do the job. He needs more substantial goodness to feel full the way that he wants to.

“If you’re hungry, we can plate up,” says Tally. “Once the oven roast rests for maybe ten minutes.” She smiles at Malcolm, but it falters when she catches the humorous grin on Jackie’s face.

“Thalia,” says Jackie.

“Yes, Jacqueline?”

“You’re acting like you’ve never been around an omega before, much less seen one,” points out Jackie.

“My bad. Am I creeping?” Tally sighs. “I was hoping I wouldn’t come on too strongly. You’ve sent me pictures of you two with Malcolm, but honestly the pictures seriously don’t compare, Jackie.”

“Nope,” agrees Jackie. 

“Malcolm, you are way too good looking,” says Tally.

“I am the only male here. Perhaps the odds are less in my favor when the rest of our party joins us,” replies Malcolm.

“Do rich folks talk like they’re scripted or is it just me?” quips Tally.

“It’s Malcolm,” says Jackie. The awkward lull melts into the coziness of friendly little jokes. Jackie and Tally kill the wine bottle while Malcolm restlessly adjusts his posture at the dinner table. As though the evening goes back on track, Tally’s husband and Gil arrive when the meal is ready to serve. Malcolm relaxes when he sees Gil. Having his Alpha in his sights stops him from fidgeting. Being in the same room with Jackie and Gil draws a brilliant smile out of him.

Hot and aromatic steam rises from the oven roast which Tally places on the table with goldfish patterned oven mitts. The roast meat is already carved into slivers.

“You’ve outdone yourself, hon. My mouth is watering,” compliments JT. He puts his hands on his wife for a quick squeeze but his eyes are riveted on Malcolm.

“Hi! I’m--”

“I know who you are,” says JT. He doesn’t immediately sit down. 

Malcolm realizes that he’s breached etiquette by sitting at the head of the table which is JT’s rightful place. Feeling overly warm, Malcolm simply chose the chair closest to Jackie without leaving too much space between himself and the hostess. As a result, when JT approaches the chair adjacent to Tally, Gil is already reaching because that same chair is next to Malcolm. Tally improvises and pulls out the seat at the other end of the rectangular table.

“I am sorry. Please allow me to move the chairs,” offers Malcolm. He is unbelievably embarrassed. For years, it’s been ingrained in him to avoid these hot spots with more than one Alpha present. Betas and omegas sit on the correct side of the table to accommodate the territorial natures of Alphas. He knows that he is stuck in the zone of shame because even if he were to move, his scent will be all over JT’s chair. They are fortunate that Gil and JT’s work rapport keep the dinner from turning downright combative.

“Just sit. Food will taste just as good all the way over here,” says JT. When JT catches Gil’s disapproving stare, JT modulates his language. “I mean, please sit.”

“Whiskey, anyone?” says Tally. She has drink glasses ready and pours the bourbon for Gil first and then her husband.

“May I please have water with ice, Tally? Sorry to bother you,” requests Malcolm. The friction hasn’t totally abated. He can smell the note of hostility, still feels like the walls are close, and he’s sensitive to the raised temperature of the room from the steaming food and the extra warm bodies. Even with his tongue curled around an ice cube, Malcolm discreetly unbuttons his shirt when he pretends to wipe his mouth. He can get away with plucking two buttons.

“Good?” asks Gil. His wristwatch gleams as he rubs Malcolm’s leg.

Malcolm moans longingly into his fork before he coughs. His throat feels too dry and he can tell that blood is rising in his pale cheeks. He crosses his legs because if he doesn’t, he will almost certainly lunge onto Gil’s lap and grind on the man.

Gil puts his hand on the back of Malcolm’s neck and feels how hot Malcolm is running.

“Jesus Christ. Everyone, we have a situation,” announces Gil.

“No shit, Gil. I don’t know about you but I’ve popped a knot and I’m one hundred percent sure that your boy over there is why,” says JT. At JT’s brazen words, both Tally and Jackie lift up the tablecloth to peek at their husbands.

“This is not of Gil’s doing!” says Malcolm. When he stands up, he cups his palms over his pants. A quick check of the dining room chair shows Malcolm no stains thankfully, but his panties are soaked with slick. When he slowly backs up from the table, the inner seam of his pants pulls at the small hairs on his thighs where he’s dripping. “I need air. Outside. I need out.”

“You’re not going anywhere dude,” says JT. He leaves his chair to bar Malcolm’s exit.

Gil’s chair clatters to the floor as he rounds on JT. “The hell you telling him what to do, Tarmel?!”

Tally throws her shoulder smack dab into JT’s broad chest while Jackie grips up Gil’s belt and stakes her high heel onto Gil’s wingtips. Gil cannot surge aggressively without knocking her over.

“Please tell me Gil doesn’t have his piece,” Tally calls over to Jackie.

“Just what he has in his pants,” confirms Jackie. “He locks the gun in the glove compartment.”

“Yo, if Malcolm goes out there, whoever’s on the street will go for him,” says JT. “He needs to stay planted.”

“Stop looking at him, Tarmel,” threatens Gil. “If you don’t want a melon spoon in your skull.”

“You shouldn’t have let him out when he’s going into heat!” yells JT. 

“You’re going to tell me what to do now? How does Evidence Management downstairs sound to you?”

“Fucking Alphas,” mutters Tally.

“Tell me about it,” says Jackie. They are pressed back to back to keep their husbands separated. 

Jackie rolls her eyes and then waves at Malcolm. “Malcolm, baby, get over here. It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you. Not even these grown up men.”

Malcolm slinks closer, face bowed. He lets Jackie move his hands to reveal a damp spot emanating from his zipper and spreading towards his knee.

“Poor thing. That doesn’t look comfortable. Can I help you out of those?” asks Tally. When she moves toward Malcolm to unbuckle his belt and unclasp his pants, Gil bunches the front of JT’s long sleeve shirt and partially blocks JT from getting any closer to Malcolm.

“Better?”

Malcolm holds his arms up while Jackie rubs soothing circles over his chest. His shirt hangs open before Jackie pushes it from his shoulders. Malcolm relaxes into a gentle kiss with Jackie stripping him from behind. Tally kneels down and helps him out of his pants and his shoes.

“This is my fault. I planned for tonight to be special and I should have told you both how important it was to be home,” says Malcolm. He’s left in his white silk stockings banded with lace and he’s bulging in his clair de lune blue panties. His cream colored corset sits tilted, a round and pink nipple ringed with little dark hairs peeking from the structured bodice.

“Damn, boss. Why would you ever go anywhere when you have this waiting for you after you clock out?” exclaims JT.

“I was too busy with the job apparently,” says Gil. He relinquishes the tight hold warping JT’s long sleeve shirt. “Malcolm. Stand in front of me and apologize to JT for the stunt you pulled.”

“I am sorry, JT, for the stunt I pulled,” says Malcolm. His lashes flutter when Gil holds him. Gil’s mouth sucks on his neck and Gil pushes down Malcolm’s panties to stroke his cock. “Alpha,” he moans. Malcolm reaches behind to grab at Gil’s buttocks as he snakes his hips, bucking into Gil’s hot palm.

“Have you had an omega before?” asks Gil. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” says JT. “One of my battle buddies, well, they shared their boyfriend.”

“Did they, now? How does it work?” Gil’s hands twine with Malcolm’s. Malcolm gasps, not expecting the length of Gil’s bare cock along the crevice of his ass. The normally soft folds at the base of Gil’s cock swell bulbous, firmly indenting the globes of Malcolm’s ass and pushing his panties into a twist.

“It was their omega. They got dibs on the baby makers,” answers JT. He sounds matter of fact for an alpha man palming his erection through his jeans. “I took second place."

“You double penetrated an omega?” replies Gil.

“We knotted him, Gil. Different holes the same time.”

“Oh my God,” says Malcolm, whining as he comes from Gil squeezing slick wet fingers on the sensitive head of Malcolm’s cock. Gil milks him for JT to watch. JT’s cock protrudes from his loosened jeans but his knot remains under wraps.

"May I give fellate your friend, Gil?"

Gil pretends to consider Malcolm's breathless plea. "If this were your first time meeting Tarmel, I wouldn't agree to it."

"Have we met?" says Malcolm to JT. When Gil doesn’t yank him back, Malcolm settles onto his stocking knees, brown hair skimming his corset, delicate pink tongue lapping his bottom lip. The invitation in his hungry blue eyes draws JT between his lips. 

"I shot your Alpha dead," answers JT, fucking his mouth. Malcolm’s cheeks puff out and his Adam’s apple works frantically as JT's cock chokes him to the point of tears.

None of the men notice what Jackie and Tally get up to. Jackie returns with towels and bed sheets from the linen closet. Dinner gets bagged and tossed into the freezer. Tally shoves jugs of water into the fridge before she helps Jackie line the three person couch with bed sheets and towels.

“Hey, you Alphas. Take this to the sofa,” says Jackie.

“Y’all are not fucking where we eat,” says Tally. She turns to Jackie as Gil leads Malcolm to the couch with JT keeping pace. “Does Malcolm need to be gagged? He can use mine.”

“Thank you, dear. We won’t have to borrow yours,” answers Jackie. She pointedly tilts her head as Gil tugs and then rips the panties off of Malcolm. Gil and Malcolm share an impassioned kiss before Gil balls up the damp satin and wedges it between Malcolm’s lips. 

Gil drops trou as Malcolm bends over and places his hands on the top frame of the couch. Gil’s hands skim the backs of his legs, appreciating the lacy texture of the stockings, the smocked ribbon of the garters drooping down without the panties to anchor onto, and Malcolm’s own heated skin. That’s the only loving touch Malcolm knows before Gil rams him headfirst into the cushions. 

His choked noises are muffled by his panties and the towels as he’s impaled so deeply that Gil’s hardened knot circles in a fever hot grind that tugs at his anus. It feels like a knuckled punch right to the core of Malcolm’s body screaming to be bred. Gil pulls his hair to re-align their bodies when Malcolm’s arms shake too much from gripping the couch frame. 

Gil closes in on the nape of his neck and he bends Malcolm’s left arm like he’s arresting Malcolm. Gil’s hips push in while Gil’s arms pull up. Malcolm’s heels lift from the floor as he writhes and and his core muscles seize up, his slick hole pulled into a wide clench around Gil’s knot. A sensation that morphs from blunt force pleasure to sumptuous agony engulfs Malcolm as Gil claims his place womb deep where not even John plowed him. Malcolm goes limp, sufficiently broken, as Gil floods him in a soft rush that Malcolm soaks up. A low rumble from Gil’s throat shakes him all the way down to where Gil cleaves him. Then Gil turns him, untangling his legs until they’re face to face, curving into one another on the couch. Gil licks at the teeth marks on Malcolm’s neck. He scoops out the ruined panties wedged in Malcolm’s mouth. Malcolm’s chin is sticky from drool.

“Jackie?” The blissful haze recedes enough for Malcolm to feel some guilt. To his surprise, Gil chuckles and nuzzles his damp throat. Malcolm’s eyes land on Jackie precariously spread over JT’s face. Her forearms are stabilized against a rosy painted accent wall, shins on JT’s shoulders, knees on the headrest of a large chaise lounge. Tally’s hands are all over Jackie’s ass hanging out from her disheveled dress. Tally bites down on Jackie’s ass, cries muffled by the succulent swell of muscle as her husband hammers away. As roughly as JT fucks into his wife, the inflated base of his cock won’t go any further. The knotted swell rises like a pulsating red sun.

“Jackie, they’re done. Get over here and eat me,” says Tally. Her breasts hang heavy, the areolas of her flushed chest showing through the stretched neckline of her dress. JT puts his hands on Jackie to help her down. Jackie kneels onto the rug and when JT slows his thrusting, Jackie sinks her face into the reddened and engorged mounds of Tally’s black vulva. JT groans and Tally kisses him until her legs tremble in orgasm.

“Do you need more, love?” asks JT. He sounds like a devoted mate even as he eyefucks the omega waiting for his knot.

“Fucking go, Alpha man,” says Tally. She curls up with Jackie in the chaise lounge in a mess of sweat soaked hair and lush rolls and round muscled legs. Their low whispers and shared laughs spark an intractable sort of joy in their men and also wonder as to what they’re telling each other.

JT reaches for Malcolm and when Gil doesn’t hit him, JT proceeds to hold Malcolm’s chin, aiming for a kiss. As soon as JT’s lips touch his, Malcolm whimpers and his tongue dips into JT’s mouth, to taste more of Jackie. It’s so close to what Malcolm wanted all along, for Gil to knot him hard while he falls into Jackie. 

As sloppy and loose as he is from Gil breeding him, Malcolm remains greedy for a different breed of intensity. JT is big. His arms are almost twice as thick as Gil’s and he’s much taller, and looks stronger than Gil. His lower body appears to be as stable and thick as a tree trunk. JT could easily tear him up, and the thrill of it sends another wave of slick dribbling along his inner thigh.

“What’s wrong, Malcolm?” asks Gil. He’s not infuriated anymore, but that doesn’t mean Malcolm’s off the hook without strenuous teasing.

“Nothing, Alpha. Nothing is wrong,” says Malcolm.

“We can stop if you aren’t sure about JT knotting your ass,” says Gil.

“Please do not,” says Malcolm. He bares his throat and pleads with his bright eyes.

“Please what?” says Gil. His fingers gather fresh slick before his touch trails within the crevice of Malcolm’s ass.

“Ah!” cries Malcolm when Gil twists in a damp fingertip. “Please knot me.” Malcolm’s wiggling becomes more desperate as Gil withdraws his finger, stroking the delicate rim at a pace which Malcolm would describe as torturous and unusually cruel.

“Knot me, Alphas. Knot me and come in my ass…”

“And…?”

“And breed me, damn it,” curses Malcolm.

“Gil, that’s good for me. For fuck’s sake,” interjects JT. His dick is so hard that it no longer curves and his knot remains an angry shade of red. JT’s cock is slightly thicker than the bottle of lube which he pulls from the couch cushions.

“Fair enough, JT. Go ahead,” concedes Gil.

Gil kisses Malcolm, his tongue and teeth slow like he has all the time in the world to be with Malcolm. Malcolm snuggles into Gil’s sweater. He is very sorry that he trapped them inside the Tarmel house, if only for the fact that Gil won’t get completely naked with another Alpha. He’s also not very comfortable in the corset, but he doesn’t know JT and doesn’t want JT to pity him for the worst of the scars. JT’s black denims are crumpled around his prodigious calves. JT removes his hoodie, but otherwise keeps his long sleeve shirt on. 

Malcolm’s brown hair cascades forward as he plants his hands onto Gil’s sweater. Gil holds Malcolm’s neck like he owns him.

“Relax. You’re perfect. Let JT feel how good it is inside you. You’re a sloppy mess, Malcolm, and I love you,” whispers Gil. Malcolm settles into the possessive sting of Gil’s teeth nipping his lips once more. JT’s palm sits hot and heavy on his ass cheek as strange and large fingers stretch him. Lube warmed by busy, busy hands coats his tight little rim. 

The intensity of another man entering him for wordless pleasures stirs Malcolm into another fever. He knows by each pulsing inch that it’s not Jackie’s toy. Gil gags him with the panties again with JT groaning and slamming Malcolm onto his knot. Each time JT picks him up like he’s a doll, Gil’s cock slides outward before Gil’s knot hooks into his stretched cunt. Malcolm endures when Gil and JT’s knots massage the muscles which partition his cunt and his ass. In certain moments of their clashing rhythms, their differing degrees and depths of penetration, Malcolm clenches tighter around Gil while opening for JT. He feels JT biting the corset in lieu of marking him. 

Not even a lifetime of deep breathing exercises prepares Malcolm for his insides turning molten as JT spills in many short, hot gushes. JT’s thrusts get faster but more shallow as he positions his knot into the ring of muscle spasmed from Malcolm’s orgasm. Malcolm’s world rocks on its axis with JT pumping into him. Malcolm can feel the large hand prints on his hip and his leg when JT forgets his own bruising strength. Yet Gil stays inside him, a steady pulse when insensate madness rips into Malcolm and he loses control. Malcolm can’t see or hear or think like a rational person; he just comes. Someone pushes his hair from over his blissed out eyes.

“Did I die?” His aching muscles and the pressure in his forehead promises a nasty headache from dehydration.

Jackie’s face glows and he looks at her like she’s an ethereal entity. She has water, cold and sweet. And slices of fruit which Malcolm vaguely remembers nibbling from Tally’s snack tray. 

“I love you, Jackie,” says Malcolm before he gulps down the water. She pulls a bed sheet around his shoulders and smooches him. Neither Gil or the Tarmels are in the living room.

“I love you, too. Eat up,” Jackie giggles. She appears more satiated when Malcolm gorges on fresh food. 

The fruit itself is not the most choice selection. It's warm from sitting out amidst their rutting. Malcolm is awash in adulterous musk when Jackie feeds him a morsel. His sucks the fruit where it is sweetest, tonguing bruised flesh. Much of it is mildly flavored but its tender wetness molds to his lips and coats the roof of his mouth before he swallows gushing juices with greedy abandon. The fruit gives body to the salt of Jackie's sweat, the bitter lick of seed, and the heady nectar from another man's wife.

“What have I done?” The atmosphere of copious sex assures Malcolm that although he lost track of time, at least he is not having a nightmare.

“Well, you ruined Papa’s favorite sweater. Woke up the baby.”

Malcolm covers his eyes in face of his numerous sins.

“... and you made some friends. They want us to host next time since we trashed their place.”

“Where is Alpha?” He misses Gil terribly and wants him again.

“Gil’s warming up the car. We’re leaving and we’re going to finish this in our own bed,” promises Jackie. “Just the three of us at home, plus one.”

Malcolm smiles and pulls away the sheet covering him. He glances downward. “I do not believe that I can become pregnant that quickly, Jackie.”

“Did you believe that you could have two Alpha men knotting you?”

“Of course not,” says Malcolm. He almost falls over without Jackie helping him limp forward.

“You know what that means? You can carry twins,” Jackie says, in singsong. They’re silly in the afterglow. Despite his protests, Malcolm shares her hopes, the same as what Gil planted inside him.

* * *

Malcolm is barely dressed in the dinner clothes. His shirt hangs loose and untucked; suit jacket lain over his shoulders. He holds his belt. Malcolm doesn't have far to limp. Jackie opens the passenger door of the LeMans for Malcolm. He's wrong footed when Gil waits for him in the passenger's seat, chair moved back and positioned into a recline.

"Make yourself comfortable, kid," says Gil. Though he's all but laying down, Malcolm gets the impression that Gil will pounce at any provocation. Malcolm crawls onto Gil's lean torso. Jackie slings her heels into the back of the LeMans before pushing the seat forward and getting behind the wheel.

Malcolm is no longer burning in feverish arousal but as Gil grasps his waist and then his shoulders, Malcolm arches as though he's diving into fresh water. Gil's goatee rubs Malcolm's jawline as he takes over. Gil's hands shift beneath Malcolm's shirt and flexes and massages Malcolm's shoulders and then the small of his back, soothing the omega around the corset. Malcolm contentedly snuggles. He lifts his head to regard the satisfaction on Gil's face when the corset flaps open. Gil rolls the corset into a sloppy fold and drops it in the rear.

"Better?" Gil asks. In response, Malcolm lifts Gil's sweater, sighing when they are skin to skin.

"Save some of that for me," says Jackie, gripping the wheel and squirming in her seat. She parks the LeMans at an odd angle on the carport.

Once Malcolm is hustled in, Jackie starts a warm bath and pours Epsom salt. Gil undresses Malcolm in front of the clouded mirror. Gil touches the jagged scar beneath Malcolm's collarbone. His palms rest over Malcolm's navel as he kisses the mating mark on Malcolm's neck. His teeth pricked a little higher on an old bite.

Jackie's nude form adds another rich shade to their lush images in the mirror. Her surgical scar runs 8 inches along her sternum. It looks worse than it feels. Her skin feels healthy but sticky.

"Let's get you all cleaned up," she purrs. Gil releases him but Malcolm can't step away, hypnotized by the possessive fervor of Gil's eyes in the mirror.

"Go," orders Gil. "Wash up so I can get my smell on your body."

"Is it bad?" asks Malcolm. "Do I stink?"

Jackie suppresses a smile as Gil explains his conundrum. 

"You smell amazing. I could go down on you and not come back up right away," says Gil. He turns Malcolm around and pulls him into another kiss. His breath heats Malcolm's throat. "The problem is that you reek of other people. It should be me, with Jackie."

Gil's territorial instinct of wanting Malcolm largely to himself leaves Malcolm startled but deeply pleased. Jackie follows Malcolm into the tub and Gil strokes himself as Jackie massages and teases Malcolm in the bathwater. The tub can only fit two, but they make the most of it. In contrast to Jackie and Malcolm's leisurely ablutions, Gil showers alone even with the Epsom bath water not immediately drained. 

Malcolm displays a worshipful attitude as he towels off Jackie's dripping belly and between her legs. Jackie pats his damp hair and dries his shoulders as Malcolm kneels in front of her. They dry each other's hair with an expensive ionic hair dryer while Gil showers. Malcolm blushes when Jackie aims cool air around his joints and between his legs. In comparison to Jackie's waxed pussy and her shaved underarms, Malcolm is conscientious about the tufts of hair on his pits and his stomach and the hairs darkening his pale legs.

Malcolm lies on their bed. Jackie sticks a rolled up towel underneath his buttocks. Taking a bath cooled him off, but Malcolm needs his Alpha to breed him. Gil walks in on Malcolm's knees bent over his ears, wailing from Jackie's pointed hand sinking into his slick cunt hole.

"Malcolm, tell Gil what you wanted to say to us tonight," urges Jackie.

"Not important. Breed me. Come in me and knot me," whines Malcolm. He's rubbing his nipples, bucking onto the width of Jackie's hand.

Jackie splays her hand on his chest to calm him when he cries from how empty he is. "Gil, you need to get over here. Wait before you fuck him."

Gil listens to his wife though doing so tests his self restraint. Malcolm is right there and every instinct goads Gil to just take the omega, mark him with come, make their young. Gil pulls Malcolm into his arms, his jaw tightening from his decision not to simply react when Malcolm grinds his cock and challenges Gil with a bold stare.

"What is it, Malcolm? Is Jackie right that you need to get something off your chest?" asks Gil.

Malcolm whines again before he ducks his face, pressing his nose into Gil's clean smell for reassurance. His eyes roll as Gil pats him below his chin.

"For you and Jackie," stutters Malcolm. He throws his head back to face his partners.

"I'm ready to have our baby, Alpha Gil. Beta Jackie. I love you both and I want--"

Slick dribbles down Gil's thigh and Malcolm's thighs clench around Gil's knee in a firm grip. Malcolm shakes all around Gil and tension spikes through his knot, uncomfortably stiff against his swollen balls which ache for Malcolm. Yet Gil holds steady, thinking of Malcolm, thinking of what this moment will bring for all of them. 

"Tell Alpha what you want," says Gil.

"I want our family," he gasps. "You and Jackie are my little girl's parents. I can't do this with anyone else. Say you want our babies. Say you want us, Alpha."

Jackie's fingers catch Gil by his goatee. She kisses the corner of his mouth and nuzzles Malcolm's neck. "I love you, Malcolm."

"I want the same, Malcolm. Christ. You belong with us." Gil's voice breaks into hoarse growls as his lips seal over Malcolm's ear. "I belong to you and Jackie."

Malcolm sobs as Gil hitches up one leg and splits him open. But it's not enough for just the two of them. Jackie holds Malcolm when Gil withdraws his cock.

"Hands and knees, omega," says Gil. He smells his soiled fingers.

"Do what the man say," says Jackie, breathing hard. Malcolm rolls on top of her and then he lifts his ass and his upper body. Jackie kisses his wrist and jerks his cock, stiff and bobbing from the shadows which their bodies make.

Malcolm yells when Gil's goatee brushes his balls and the base of his cock. Gil licks his cunt hole, and his body relaxes until come from their earlier rutting trickles down. Gil buries his nose into Malcolm's ass and his snarl tears away Malcolm's strength and weakens Malcolm's knees.

"You smell like fucking Tarmel. It should be me. Only me," rages Gil. He drives his cock into Malcolm without any gentle words or tender prep. Malcolm falls limp, Gil battering him into a loose sprawl, making it easy for Jackie to guide his hard cock to her own wanton slit. 

She remains sensitive from riding the man who knotted Malcolm's ass. Jackie's nails gouge red lines along Malcolm's back, all over his scars from John's whip. She draws blood as she fucks Malcolm. Gil kisses her gaping mouth as he slams his full length into slick bliss. Malcolm screams as he is filled and milked, stretching around Gil's knot and rooted in Jackie's pussy. After a sweaty rut which coats Malcolm with his scent only, Gil spends all his love and passion inside Malcolm who spills pure joy into Jackie. They cannot stop until Malcolm is theirs, nested in blankets at home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Edrisa talks about gross way for man to die. Very brief dialogue but maybe wait to read this after a nice meal if your imagination is a fucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Innumerable thanks to my beta reader KateSamantha. Who else would suggest birb when I make a serious ask for baby names?

**One Year Later**

“You haven’t seen your father since you were a teenager. Why end the winning streak now?” Gil demands. Malcolm is momentarily distracted from how Gil’s jacket sleeves go taut due to the flexed musculature of Gil crossing his arms. 

“I am dead set against putting Dr. Whitly in front of a camera,” agrees Malcolm. “However, I cannot allow my sister to enact the interview by herself.”

“She’s not going to be alone. It will be Ainsley, the camera crew, and the sociopath who murdered twenty-three people!” replies Gil.

“Dr. Whitly is actually more of a psychopath,” says Malcolm.

“You’re not going to see him!” insists Gil.

“I am not asking for your permission, Alpha. I gave you the date and time of the interview for your information,” states Malcolm. He checks his phone and realizes that he must drop off Sara at her Pre-K program. 

Alba jogs her feet in the forward facing infant carrier strapped to Malcolm’s chest. She is a long lady and she lands a kick on her Papa. Gil gives all of his girls goodbye kisses before work. Malcolm gets a sharp pinch on his butt before Gil shuts the door more loudly than usual. 

“If marriage were a democracy, I would side with Gil and vote no for your little field trip to prison,” says Jackie. She dangles Sara’s brown lunch bag and a darting crimson shadow snatches it away.

“Sara, is it costumes day at school?” says Malcolm. The crimson shadow retreats.

“Do what Daddy says. Take off the cape, Sawa,” says Jackie.

“It’s not a cape! It’s a cloak,” argues Sara. She shows Jackie the attached hood where she scissored in custom eye holes.

“It stays at home or it goes in the trash,” says Jackie. She balls up the red polyester cape and tosses it in the air. It lands on their parakeet’s cage. Then it’s Sara’s turn to get a sharp pinch on the butt before Jackie marches them out.

Malcolm takes Alba for a walk under the bridge. He meets with Ainsley who pats Alba’s swooping black hair poking out of her little hat.

“Bro, why didn’t you just name her Jil? She’s almost his clone. Are side parts in a person’s hair genetic?” Ainsley is extra perky which means she’s getting the attention she craves at work.

“Does the serial killer gene exist?” retorts Malcolm.

“Way to drag down the morning, bro. Look, he is not the bogeyman that everyone says that he is. Dad made a pop culture reference to Lady Gaga. I didn’t have the heart to tell him what year it is.”

“It sounds to me like you already love him, Ains,” says Malcolm.

"Not as much as he loves me. He watches the news every day," says Ainsley. Her steps slow and she touches Malcolm's arm. "He had a drawing from me that I don't remember giving him. It's one of my angels, bro. How did she get there? Did she fly?"

"That was me," says Malcolm. He is startled into confessing. "I once sent our father your picture."

"He used you," says Ainsley.

"It was me. I just wanted to please him at the time, and I knew Mother would not approve," says Malcolm. He admits to his guilt.

Contempt warps Ainsley's mouth the more Malcolm apologizes for his actions as a child.

“He used you to get back at our mother. He used my drawing to get me. Dr. Whitly is a conceited opportunist. I'm going to show everyone what he is,” says Ainsley with the deliberation of someone sharpening cold steel. “Malcolm, he doesn’t know about his grandchildren. I wouldn’t bring them in for a visit, but it’s your chance for you to tell him what he’s missing. Hit him where it hurts. Right in the FOMO.”

“You almost sold me there,” replies Malcolm. He bends his face into Alba’s soft knit hat, reassured by the smell of milk, drool, and the herbal florals of her organic rash balm.

“What did they say when you asked?” says Ainsley, meaning Gil and Jackie.

“I did not ask them for permission. I informed them of the date and time of the interview and now I am the A-S-S-H-O-L-E,” says Malcolm, briefly pressing his fingers over Alba’s innocent crinkled ears. “How did Mother take it?” 

“She’s going to sit this one out and sip the tea in her serial killer house,” says Ainsley. After a beat, she grabs Malcolm’s shoulder for a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry, bro. Insensitive comment. I’m constantly thinking up quips for the job.”

“Mother paid good money to install gates in the underground tunnels,” says Malcolm. He assures his sister that he is coping with his paranoia about their childhood house. “Trespassers will trip the alarms. If there is another security breach, perhaps I can talk Mother into hiring an engineer to booby trap the entrances. Danger! Falling sword death.”

"As if that house needs to be more extra," retorts Ainsley. "We are officially weirder than the Winchesters."

Ainsley’s phone rings. “Ooh, gotta take this.”

“What happened?”

“Another rich bitch bites the dust. Catch ya later, bro! Muah!” Ainsley kisses Alba and squeezes the baby’s dangly feet, dashing off before Malcolm complains to her about sullying the baby's ears with toxic female labels.

"Your auntie and your daddy are in big doo-doo," croons Malcolm to Alba. He glances at his watch and kicks up his pace into a brisk power walk. "Time for yoga, Albatross!" Alba spreads her arms like a fledgling chick with a long wingspan. Already in the 90th percentile for height, she will undoubtedly grow up lean and mean and lording it over her shorter big sister. His nickname for her hits bull's eye. Malcolm laughs, heart taking flight, when his baby Albatross flaps faster to match land speed.

* * *

Because of Malcolm’s decision to visit his father at Claremont Psychiatric, Gil shifts the topic of work day occurrences to office gossip and he mentions older cases which Jackie and Malcolm have already heard about. Gil does not discuss his current cases, the ones which call him to leave their bed in the middle of the night. Without Gil’s scent indicating to Malcolm that he is safe and well protected, the night terrors return.

Gil’s anger ignites when he returns home after nine o'clock p.m. to Malcolm’s bruised jaw and bloody lip. Gil ignores his plate of food on the stove top. He is smoldering after he tucks Sara into bed and reassures her that she can sleep after the noisy disturbances outside her bedroom door. Sara goes to sleep with Papa Bear at home.

“It was an accident,” says Malcolm. The collar of his pajama is spotted with blood.

“Don’t you dare tell me that you fell down!” exclaims Gil.

“I tackled him, babe. Malcolm was running,” says Jackie. Her knuckles are red from skidding on the floor when she chased Malcolm.

“Don’t go to that interview. Just the thought of seeing your father is screwing you up like this!” concludes Gil. He speaks to Malcolm more harshly than normal, a symptom of added pressure from the extra casework. “Why do you have to go back to him? Let me protect you from all of it, God damn it!”

Alba wails from the nursery and Jackie pads off in her sleepwear to check in, leaving Gil and Malcolm to their fight.

“What do you have to protect me from, Alpha?” asks Malcolm.

“Death. Murder. Crime,” replies Gil. His fingers grip Malcolm’s arms. “I want to keep you safe. Can’t let anything happen to you again. It’s on me. Whatever happens to you is on me.”

“You do not have to do everything in our relationship, Gil. This is not fair to you, me, or Jackie. Our arrangement is stable when we all do our share,” says Malcolm. “I hate it when you do this.”

“Do what? You hate it when I look after you? Care for you?” Despite the hard set of his thinned lips, Gil is gentle when he cradles Malcolm’s head. His eyes broadcast distress as his thumbs skim around the tender discoloration on Malcolm’s skin. “I can’t turn off my instincts when you’ve got blood on you.”

Jackie returns with Alba cradled upright, her baby cheek on the burp rag over Jackie’s shoulder.

“I hate it when you treat our adult partner like he's that little boy again. When you finally shut down from the pressure you put on yourself, nothing gets done!” says Jackie, in a hushed yell. “Whatever is happening at your job, it’s affecting Malcolm.”

“It's not me. It's Martin. Hearing what his father says and does in prison triggers Malcolm, no thanks to Ainsley. I am not adding to the nightmares with grisly details from the job,” says Gil. “Let’s all get some shut eye. Maybe we can squeeze in eight hours between the three of us.”

Jackie slumbers in the middle instead of Malcolm. She warms the empty spaces where neither Gil or Malcolm reach for one another. Gil lies on his side towards his watch and his phone. Malcolm reads the ceiling for every wrong thing he says despite good grammar.

When Gil receives a late night call, about four hours later, Malcolm doesn’t bother staying in bed with Jackie. He’s up with the early birds. Well, one bird. Their parakeet’s name is Sunshine.

* * *

Malcolm shouldn’t be surprised that his name is no longer on Dr. Whitly’s visitor’s list. Nor should his feelings be ruffled. He focuses on the practicalities. Ainsley picks him up from inside and tells the correctional officers that Malcolm is a consultant.

“Way to crash my job, bro,” says Ainsley. She punches Malcolm’s shoulder with a smirk. “I’m proud of you.”

“I am not here due to our father,” says Malcolm. He’s already made the decision to stand outside the door of the cell and enjoy the privilege of his own private breakdown. “When you finish, I will be here. I expect you to walk through the door relatively unscathed.”

“Suit yourself. It was too much to hope for a brother sister tag team,” says Ainsley.

Malcolm does not remain alone. His jaw drops when another visitor ventures forth. Her shield flashes on her belt loop.

“Malcolm?”

“Dani! I did not expect you to recognize me,” says Malcolm.

“I do not miss the beard,” says Dani.

“We never did get to the all you can eat all you can drink big dinner out,” says Malcolm. “So much has changed since I last saw you! I am glad that you are well.”

She gives him a business card with her full name and contact information. “I will tell you all about it over food. But right now, I’m working a case.”

“Are you a homicide detective now?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Her mouth quirks in a half-smile.

“Have you spoken with Gil?” asks Malcolm.

“Gil is my new CO. Recent transfer. It wasn’t too long ago when I passed the detective’s exam,” says Dani.

“Then you are here for my father,” concludes Malcolm.

“Yep. Is he in with anyone?” says Dani.

“Just a reporter who is also here on official business,” says Malcolm. He bites the inside of his mouth to keep a straight face.

“A reporter? No offense, Malcolm, but The Surgeon is old news,” says Dani. Her teasing smile fades into a stone cold demeanor before the prison guard admits her.

If he calls Gil now, they are going to fight over the phone. His fingers twitch from the temptation to launch one thousand burning questions. Instead, Malcolm picks up his mother Jessica’s call.

“What’s wrong? Is Alba okay?” asks Malcolm. Jessica is babysitting.

“Your daughter is fine. My baby girl, however, isn’t answering my texts. Has she fallen into the grave she dug for herself or do I wait to re-allocate her inheritance?” says Jessica.

Malcolm peeks in through the window and sees the camera guy’s shoes and the back of Ainsley’s hair. He ducks when Dr. Whitly’s head turns toward the window.

“Oh, Jesus. He looked at me,” he mutters.

“What? Are you with your serial killer father in serial killer prison?” demands Jessica.

“I’m behind the door.”

“Just one door? It’s not enough,” sighs Jessica. “Call me when he’s finished toying with her.” She hangs up.

The commotion of another door in an otherwise silent corridor makes Malcolm look up from his phone. He sees a bald and stocky white man in uniform stalking towards him. A prisoner’s uniform. The prisoner clutches a bloody laminated ID badge.

“Ainsley?? I want my interview, too!”

Malcolm beats the cell door as the alarms sound in a red alert. A tall black man wearing the prison guard uniform pulls Malcolm over the threshold. Malcolm and the guard brace themselves to keep the door shut from the rampaging inmate. He won't let his daughters grow up missing one of their parents. The inmate gets his arm through the gap and stabs Malcolm’s palm with a melted plastic knife.

“Step aside, you two,” commands Dani. She is armed. When the guard drags Malcolm from the door, Dani is clear to shoot. She puts a bullet through the inmate’s lung. The inmate falls over when a second round injures his leg. She kicks away the shiv.

The Direct News cameraman captures the takedown on video.

Ainsley runs towards Malcolm. “You’re bleeding, oh God! Mr. David, where’s your first aid kit?”

“Well done, Detective,” simpers Martin. “You have saved us all from a deranged individual.”

“If you’re grateful, you tell me who your newest apprentice is. How do they know about your paralytics, Dr. Whitly?” demands Dani.

“Perhaps we should attend to the wounded,” answers Martin. “I’m qualified to assist.”

“No, you are not, Dr. Whitly. Your license to practice is most certainly revoked,” says Malcolm. He’s dizzy from skipping breakfast on top of the blood loss. Mr. David wraps his hand but Malcolm will need stitches and imaging tests for undetectable vascular and nerve damage. Mr. David then assists the fallen inmate whose exhalations crackle and squeak.

“Do you know who you are speaking with, young man? I remain a world renowned cardio-thoracic expert.” Martin disregards the inmate hemorrhaging in his prison cell and he gestures toward the impressive leather bound volumes populating his shelves. “See for yourself. I have my own medical journals.”

“Your journals,” repeats Malcolm. He clutches his wrapped hand and waves at Dani before he single-handedly pulls books from Martin’s shelves. Malcolm flaps open one book. The book hangs vertically in Malcolm's one-handed grip. “Detective Powell, these are his personal journals.”

“What am I looking for?” asks Dani. They ignore Martin’s protests over the unsorted piles which Malcolm tosses onto the floor.

“The top shelf volumes are from his workshop. The notes are handwritten and the illustrations are his. Any medical techniques used at the crime scenes which you are investigating will be in these pages.”

Dani opens up a green hardcover journal and sees where the pages are torn. The other journals remain impeccably intact. Dani escorts him from Dr. Whitly's cell for a private exchange. “Thanks, Malcolm. I’ll get a warrant and search Dr. Whitly’s patient records and communications with other doctors. Get prints off Dr. Whitly's journal.” Dani thinks out loud as she adapts to an unexpected development out in the field.

“You are great at this. Can you tell me how it goes later?” pleads Malcolm.

“Get out of here. Your husband is my CO. I am not going back to Vice,” says Dani. She smacks him lightly with the journal. “And why the hell didn’t you say that it was your sister I was barging in on?!!”

* * *

Jackie leaves work early to pick up Sara from school and Alba from her grandmother’s. Malcolm’s hand gets sewn up at the trauma center. Gil collects Malcolm from the hospital. No music in the LeMans. He parks on their block and stops Malcolm from scuttling out.

“Anything you want to say, kid?” says Gil.

“Not really, no. I imagine that Detective Powell is who you trust,” counters Malcolm.

“I was going to tell you,” says Gil.

“About what? The fact that you knew my father was involved in your current murder investigations? Or the part where you are Dani’s boss?” demands Malcolm.

“Powell wanted to reach out to you. I wasn’t going to steal her thunder,” says Gil. “That was her choice not to approach you sooner.”

Gil smacks the steering wheel. “For obvious reasons, I did not want you to get involved with your father’s problems. Look what happened when you stepped into that cell with him! You are alive due to sheer dumb luck. If Powell hadn’t been there… How many close calls, Malcolm?”

“You should have told me about the case sooner. I could have helped. We could have talked about it instead of fighting and getting on Jackie’s bad side,” says Malcolm. The tip of his nose brushes Gil’s shoulder, taking comfort in his cologne.

“How bad was it, when you saw him?” asks Gil.

“I panicked and I could not show him my face. He assumed that I was with police. Spoke to me as though he were not the one who birthed me. Which is fair. I am properly estranged from Dr. Whitly,” says Malcolm. Malcolm hisses when pain shoots through his hand. The tremors hurt so much more.

Gil cradles his wrist and kisses the gauze. “I’m sorry, baby. How do I make it up to you?”

“At some point, I will have dinner with your detective. May I have her for one night when you catch the killer emulating The Surgeon?”

“A whole night? For dinner? You don’t eat that much,” says Gil. “Be straight with me. Do you recall that one time with the Tarmels?”

“Hmmm, graphically,” answers Malcolm. A shy smile perks his exhausted pallor. “Do you mind if I see Detective Powell?”

“I do mind,” says Gil. He smirks at Malcolm’s pout. “But considering how hot you are, baby, I’ve learned to share.” Malcolm kisses Gil's fingers and swirls his tongue before he sucks on Gil's thumb.

"Anything else you have to tell me?" asks Gil. Malcolm pauses in his flirting when his teeth flash in a serendipitous smile.

"I think my sister is screwing her cameraman," says Malcolm. He remembers how Ainsley left him to hover around her work colleague.

Gil laughs. "It's one more reason for her to get in front of his camera." He licks the delicate skin behind Malcolm's ear. "The camera loves you, too, baby. It's a shame about your hand. We could have made home movies with Mama after putting the kiddies to bed."

"Minor injury. You can record us," insists Malcolm. Malcolm knows that Jackie will praise the Lord when they kiss and make up from their arguments; he smiles pretty for Papa.

"Do yourself a favor, kid. Wait 'til you're healed up. You'll need both hands for a broad like Dani," says Gil with a playful tap to his chin.

* * *

Malcolm makes time to socialize (i.e: commiserate) with cop families, including JT and Tally, but he wants to have his own friend who isn’t already chummy with Gil and Jackie. Dani is a difficult person to book for a fun night. Fortunately, he meets Edrisa through a yoga studio recommended by his own therapist.

“So it turned out that she didn’t choke him to death after torturing him. The killer made him swallow his own eyeballs. As the victim was an elderly man, he couldn’t masticate the tissue which eventually led to asphyxiation,” says Edrisa. “He suffered no cataracts. Pretty blue irises, just like yours.”

“Thank you,” says Malcolm. He sets aside his half finished sandwich wrap. They’re hanging out in a bar and grill restaurant.

“Have you ever heard of the saying ‘My eyes are bigger than my stomach?’” asks Edrisa.

“The victim’s eyes would not be in his stomach if they were obstructing his airways, right?” says Malcolm.

“This isn’t related to my work. You ordered food that you’re not going to eat,” says Edrisa. “Was it my anecdote that made you lose your appetite?”

“On the contrary, the details are fascinating to me. Petite beta females do not typically savage someone barehanded,” says Malcolm. “Do you mind if I call my friend to join us? She works in homicide and recently wrapped up a big case.”

“The more the merrier,” says Edrisa, raising her tequila shot.

Dani picks up the call, but it’s sounding like another non-starter. “Malcolm, tonight’s not great for me to go out.”

“Would it be better if I stop by, Dani? I am with a friend but she is flexible,” says Malcolm.

“I’m not that flexible. My pelvis hurts from Eka Hasta Bhujasana,” says Edrisa. “Did you say Dani? Dani Powell, Major Crimes? Hi Dani!”

“Dani, do you know Edrisa? She is who I am socializing with,” says Malcolm. Edrisa hovers near his phone.

“Yeah, she brainy,” responds Dani.

“We don’t have to be at a bar. Poison is expensive. Come over to my place! I heard about your latest arrest. Let’s party!” exclaims Edrisa. 

Edrisa lives by herself in a one bedroom apartment with long narrow hallways. The wood floors creak under Malcolm’s dress shoes. The walls are soft pink with lemon yellow trim. The living room and dining area share the same large space. The wood dining table has a long bench. Malcolm can also sit on a tufted leather couch. Honestly, he would sit in a box with Dani for company.

“Here’s a toast to the small world we live in!” chirps Edrisa. Dani’s nose scrunches and her brows raise but she clinks her beer with Edrisa and Malcolm’s mixers. 

Without much prompting, Dani talks about the criminal who plagiarized The Surgeon’s M.O. to murder three similar women in order to disguise his motive for murdering his wife and her secret lover. She slouches wide-legged on the dining bench, the toe of her boots pointed to the ceiling, elbows crooked on the tabletop. 

“A bit anticlimactic that it was the jealous husband, after all,” says Dani.

Edrisa perches on her tufted leather sofa with Malcolm sprawled sideways for Edrisa to massage his legs. Malcolm’s toes curl in his sock as Edrisa rubs the ball of his foot.

Dani crosses her arms as her eyes narrow at the cozy scene, smile thinning. “You must be very good friends.”

“Omegas respond well to touch therapy. I’ve been showing Malcolm certain zones to innervate for tension release and even how to stimulate physical appetite,” says Edrisa. “I have more leeway as a beta. An alpha who registers as a stranger wouldn’t be well received. Why don’t you give it a try?”

“Where would I start, Edrisa?” retorts Dani.

“Start at the top, Dani!” Malcolm sits up and pats the vacant end of the couch. Dani joins them with a fwump. He promptly resumes his supine position, flopping onto her lap, and almost purrs when Dani kneads his scalp. He arches from the light tug on his hair and another contented sigh raises his chest. Dani’s face unexpectedly hovers close. Black tendrils coil around Malcolm’s fingers and once more his breath audibly rushes as he takes in her green apple shampoo.

They both know that Edrisa’s watching them but they’re too close to each other to stop themselves.

“Damn it, boy. This is what I thought would happen,” says Dani.

“I missed you, Dani,” Malcolm utters. He’s such a pretty picture in her lap. The waterline of his eyes draw the light. She can see each lash and the odd directions of each brow hair which he leaves unplucked. His stubble feels like fine sandpaper on the heel of her palm. The warmth on the back of his neck soaks her thigh. He smells like mint and when she kisses him, Dani gets a hit of raspberries before his mouth and hands move.

Edrisa slyly pokes his feet to increase blow flow and strengthen his arousal responses. Malcolm is all but presenting for Dani when Edrisa runs a hand along his thigh, directing her touches closer to Malcolm’s knees.

“Malcolm, how would you feel if I swat your lower body with a leather riding crop?” asks Edrisa.

“Whip it out, Edrisa,” says Dani. She lifts up Malcolm’s shirt and the trail of her hand up the hairs dusting his abdomen makes Malcolm stretch and lift his hips. Edrisa scampers off to grab a hamper of leather implements. Dani pins Malcolm’s hands over his head and unbuckles his belt, blocking his view with kisses when Edrisa unclasps his pants and tugs down. The head of his cock sticks out of the top of his plum briefs.

Edrisa turns on more lamps before she cracks the leather tool on his thigh where the muscles curve. Dani stops kissing Malcolm to watch him react each time the riding crop lands with a sting. How he breathes and rolls his face into her breasts after he’s taken a light punishment. Dani’s hands disappear into his briefs, squeezing and lifting his balls before Dani yanks down the briefs.

“Edrisa, pass me your lube,” says Dani. She makes Malcolm roll over onto his stomach.

“He has to relax before I can hit him some more,” instructs Edrisa. Malcolm’s anus is a darker pink than his nipples. He clenches his hole when Dani smacks his cheek. He wiggles and his back muscles ripple as he grinds his cock onto Dani’s soft and warm lap. Edrisa slides the crop along his crack, prodding the flat leather into the sensitive skin between his anus and his balls. Edrisa doesn't hesitate even when she notes the full extent of Malcolm's numerous scars from years of abuse.

“How fascinating. Your secondary genitalia presents as a shallow ridge when you are not in heat. I don’t get to see too many omega males in your age group,” gushes Edrisa. "Live ones, that is."

“Malcolm just has to be special,” says Dani, chuckling. Dani slicks her finger with lube before stretching Malcolm with her knuckles, bending her fingers and rotating her wrist. He makes a shocked sounding cry and shudders until cum beads on his cock. 

Edrisa crouches at Dani’s feet. Her tongue laps at Malcolm's beaded cum and she seals her mouth tightly before bobbing her head. Edrisa’s glasses are folded onto the neckline of her blouse. She holds the riding crop in the middle of the shaft like it’s a paddle and smacks the leather repeatedly onto the globes of Malcolm’s ass and the backs of his legs. Malcolm comes in Edrisa’s mouth when Dani sinks in her fingers and strokes his prostate.

“Move, the both of you,” says Dani, voice low but firm. Malcolm scrabbles on his fists and his knees when Dani stands up. Dani tells Edrisa to bring out condoms and a dildo.

Edrisa wipes her damp chin. “Ooh! I have a leather harness which is for a hollow rubber dong. I usually reserve it for a friend who isn’t very long. It should be compatible with your secondary parts, Dani.”

“Is it clean?” Dani asks.

“Yes! I sanitize after playing, as well as before a session,” answers Edrisa.

Dani yanks down her black leggings. Her long T-shirt conceals most of her low hanging genitalia. Malcolm gets a quick look when Dani rolls on a condom. As with most Alpha women, her cock isn’t overly large and it still looks vulnerable and soft without a rutting knot triggered by an omega in heat. Then Dani accepts the strap-on dong from Edrisa. Between her faded shirt with a metal band logo and the chrome rivets of her undone belt and the sleek athletic muscles of her thighs, Dani projects a stunning fierce energy.

“Do you want pussy, Malcolm?” says Dani.

“I want everything,” says Malcolm. He’s a half-wrung mess with his ass blotched red and lube leaking from his hole.

“You heard him, Edrisa. Take your pants off and spread yourself for him,” orders Dani.

Edrisa puts her glasses back on and shoves her khakis with the cargo pants past her knees and toes off her shoes to get completely bare bottomed. Malcolm needs help getting on his condom. Edrisa stretches the tip of the condom and tugs until the latex goes on straight. Dani winks at Edrisa over Malcolm’s shoulder. Edrisa grabs handfuls of Malcolm’s hair when he drags his cock along her slit and pushes in. 

He’s surprisingly strong despite his light build. Edrisa can’t move her hips when he pounds her into her own couch. It feels good to get kissed. Edrisa can feel his breath catch, his moaning vibrating the back of her palate, his teeth flattening her lips in a sloppy thoughtless kiss. His hand is trapped between Edrisa’s pussy and his groin. Edrisa yelps when he massages the hood of her clit and presses circles along the top of her pussy, a much overlooked erogenous area which is priming Edrisa for orgasm. Malcolm isn’t large but he firmly fills Edrisa when Dani claims his ass. Malcolm fucks Edrisa harder as he moans through Dani stretching him in a slow and deep pounding.

The clash of Dani and Malcolm’s bodies ripples into pulsating shock waves for Edrisa until she’s slick and each thrust from Malcolm results in quick and little wet slaps. Edrisa hooks her index, middle, and ring fingers into her clit and makes herself come to Malcolm’s lips sucking on Dani’s tongue and Dani’s brown hand choking his pale throat. 

Malcolm’s nails drag on the leather couch and he goes stiff all over when Dani makes him come. When he sprawls boneless into a loose arch, Edrisa nudges him aside to privately clean herself up and to respectfully give Dani space to take care of him like how alphas do for omegas.

“I kinda knew this would happen,” says Malcolm. Dani laughs at his smug and irreverent tone of voice and slaps his ass. Their next kiss is heavy though. Dani embraces him tightly, keeps herself inside him, leaving him open and softly bent.

“Why did we wait this long,” asks Malcolm. Alcohol and orgasm strip away his polite veneer and he is just raw for her. “I believed you would come around. Then you did not.”

“The real me can't give you what you deserve,” answers Dani. “You’re better off with the Arroyos. How could I spring you loose from John and then you follow me into a shitty relationship? It took me years to get sober and change jobs so I’m not too close to the streets.”

“I am not asking for your life, Dani. I know you worked hard for what you have now. But can you show up when I want you? Some of the time, please?!” Malcolm groans, grabbing at Dani to bear the emptiness when she unlocks the toy which joined them. He shivers from how her lips move over his neck and the old whip marks on his skin and the bones of his spine. She kisses his palm; on the indent left by a prison shiv. Her arms tuck under his in a stiff tangle which leaves him uncertain; makes him feel like they will break apart.

“I don’t know what this is, Malcolm. What the hell am I supposed to do?” 

“Can you trust me?”

He is lonely inside of her silence. Only Dani's physical grip on him keeps his heart from rending apart right there on the floor.

“Okay. I'll trust you," she says quietly as though she emerges from deep cover.

Edrisa lets them use her shower. They cleanse one another, savoring their closeness and drinking in the moment. 

Dani stands guard with Malcolm on a late night while he waits for a car. When the family chauffeur picks up Malcolm from Edrisa’s place, Malcolm sticks his neck out for her and leaves the passenger door open. Dani plans to catch the subway. “Go with me. Must you walk alone?” begs Malcolm.

Dani Powell accepts Malcolm’s offer to give her a ride home after partying down.

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin: Who was that guy?
> 
> [Hours into Solitary Confinement]
> 
> Martin: (╬ಠ益ಠ)


End file.
